<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>a world alone by corinnana</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24830881">a world alone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/corinnana/pseuds/corinnana'>corinnana</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adulthood, Alternate Universe - After College/University, Doctor Iwaizumi Hajime, Future Fic, Growing Up, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Not Quite a Slow Burn, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury, Physics Professor Oikawa Tooru, Pining, Slice of Life, minor manga spoilers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:15:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>60,135</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24830881</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/corinnana/pseuds/corinnana</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Iwaizumi has his medical books on the musculoskeletal system. Oikawa has his research papers on parallel universes. </p><p>It isn't until much, much later that they realize they have each other.</p><p>(Or, one's an aspiring orthopedic surgeon, the other's a recently appointed physics lecturer, and both are trying to navigate the trials and tribulations of a world alone.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>253</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>372</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. in medias res</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>As they started walking towards the group of middle school players at the edge of the room, Hajime nudged Tooru. “I like this universe,” he said quietly.</p><p>Tooru’s lips quirked up when he looked at Hajime. “I like this universe, too.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>in medias res means "into the middle of things" in latin. :)</p><p>most of my knowledge of academia and medicine is based on those fields in the united states! my apologies if it's not accurate or realistic to japan or the rest of the world.</p><p>hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A few hours after Hajime had left the university hospital, he found himself sitting in a small cafe that boasted the best coffee in Tokyo. He’d left his clinical rotation at the hospital earlier than usual that day, and he’d had time to change out of his scrubs. </p><p>Sitting across from Matsukawa and Hanamaki, he was glad that he’d skipped going to the library in favor of catching up with his high school friends. Hajime took a sip of his cappuccino and smiled. </p><p>“Hey, did you two hear?” Matsukawa said, leaning forward in his seat with a conspiratorial grin on his face. “Oikawa’s got a job secured after he gets his master’s degree.”</p><p>Hanamaki set down his coffee cup loudly, attracting the attention of a few people seated near them in the cafe. Hajime winced as some of the coffee sloshed over the rim and onto the wooden tabletop. “A job?” Hanamaki turned to look at him, eyebrows raised in interest. “You knew about this, Iwaizumi?”</p><p>Hajime shook his head. “Nah, I’d always thought he was planning to be a researcher or lab technician. So something new came up?”</p><p>Matsukawa nodded, setting down his latte. “Apparently the physics department’s chair liked him so much as a TA that he’s being offered a position as a lecturer. Some old geezer retired, another guy got promoted, and they have a new job opening just in time for Oikawa.”</p><p>“I thought he was gonna get his PhD,” Hajime said. The words sounded odd when he spoke them, but neither Matsukawa nor Hanamaki seemed to notice. He hadn’t heard anything from Tooru about a new job, but then again, they hadn’t spoken one-on-one in weeks.</p><p>“He’s going to do them at the same time. PhD and lecturing job all in one, that lucky bastard.”</p><p>“Who'd you hear it from?” Hajime asked, looking back down at the spill on the table. </p><p>“The man himself,” Matsukawa said with a laugh. Seeing their blank faces, he added, “Oikawa called me a few days ago. He told me his advisor’s a sociopath who doesn’t help at all, and he wanted some advice from someone who’d been involved in academia.” Matsukawa had spent a few years as a teacher’s assistant, like Oikawa, before dropping out of the literature program and going abroad.</p><p>Hajime blinked. “Oh.”</p><p>Hanamaki looked surprised, too, but he masked his expression quickly. “Well, Oikawa would be one to know about sociopaths, I guess. And he’s going to take the job offer?”</p><p>“Yeah, pretty sure he’s already confirmed it with the chair and everything. I just can’t believe that he’s the first one out of all of us to get a real job.”</p><p>“And as a fucking <em> physics </em>major. I would’ve done physics if I’d known I could get a job right out of school.” Hanamaki looked down at his coffee. “Everyone said computer science was the way to go.”</p><p>“No, that was just you and your parents,” Hajime reminded him.</p><p>“I hate how the world works sometimes.”</p><p>“You’re the one who got a so-called useful major, and it didn’t even pay off,” Matsukuwa replied, shaking his head. “But we all know that Oikawa’s always been a nerd for physics, right? I don’t think you’ve got the brains for it.”</p><p>Hanamaki opened his mouth to retort, but Hajime nodded and cut him off. “Mattsun’s right, man. Oikawa lives for that shit, but you’d suck at physics.”</p><p>“Well, so would you.”</p><p>“Hey, I never said I wanted to study it. I’m happy with what I’m doing.” It was the truth. Hajime was comfortable with his position in medical school, ready to secure a residency at a nearby hospital. He’d been told many times, especially by Matsukawa, that he was wasting his twenties poring over textbooks and taking exams, but he couldn’t say he regretted it.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah. Dr. Iwaizumi and whatever.”</p><p>“Oikawa’ll be Dr. Oikawa if he gets his PhD in a few years, won’t he?” Matsukawa was grimacing at the thought. “God, that’s even worse than him insisting that we call him Captain Oikawa back in high school.”</p><p>Hanamaki shuddered, and his coffee shook in the cup. “Not that anyone called him that back then, though. I hope he doesn’t insist on Dr. Oikawa. We’ll never hear the end of it.”</p><p>There was a wry smile on Matsukawa’s face. “Dr. Iwaizumi and Dr. Oikawa. Sounds professional.”</p><p>“Dr. Iwaizumi,” Hajime echoed. <em> And Dr. Oikawa. </em>He wasn’t ready to be addressed like that or hear Tooru called Dr. Oikawa, but he could feel Mattsun and Makki studying his expression, so he tried to laugh it off. “I guess we’re really adults now.”</p><p>“We’re meeting in a nice ass cafe in Tokyo for an after dinner cup of coffee instead of a convenience store in Miyagi for meat buns. When the hell did we grow up?” Hanamaki said wistfully. “Oikawa’s getting a job, you’re going to be an actual doctor soon, I’m struggling with goddamn unemployment, and you’re… Mattsun, what’re you doing now?”</p><p>“I’m traveling,” he insisted, “and working on my novel. I’m not like you guys, I can’t just throw myself into school for twelve years or a corporate job for the rest of my life.”</p><p>“It’s not that bad,” Hajime started to say. </p><p>At the same time, Hanamaki snorted. “Yeah, you made the right choice.”</p><p>They sat for a few seconds without speaking, thinking back on their high school and college years. The chatter of the cafe surrounded them. Hajime noticed Hanamaki check the leather watch on his wrist and frown.</p><p>“Hey,” Matsukawa was saying. “Remember how Oikawa used to go on and on about parallel universes back in high school?”</p><p>“Don’t even remind me,” Hanamaki muttered.</p><p>Hajime just nodded. He noticed belatedly that since the conversation had turned to Oikawa, he hadn’t even picked up his drink. He brought the cup to his lips. The coffee was cold.</p><p>“I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently,” Matsukawa said. “Like, what if I’d been something other than a literature major? Or if Oikawa hadn’t gone to the University of Tokyo for that grad program?” He broke off. “Just that kind of thing, you know. Stupid stuff that I can’t help thinking about.”</p><p>“It’s not worth thinking about,” Hanamaki said darkly. “I used to genuinely regret shit like that, but it doesn’t help. Now, making fun of your past self's stupid decisions? <em>That's</em> fun.”</p><p>“It's not a regret.” Matsukawa set his elbows on the table. “It’s more like a what-if. In a different world, not here. A parallel universe, just like Oikawa used to go on about.”</p><p>“Parallel universes,” Hajime mused, downing the rest of his cold cappuccino and sighing. “It’s been a while since I thought about it.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Hey, Oikawa,” Hajime broke their comfortable silence. He could feel the warmth of Tooru’s arm by his. “Ever wondered what would happen if you’d done something different in the past?”</p><p>They were sprawled on the floor of Tooru’s living room after volleyball practice, still smelling of deodorant and sweat. Hajime’s legs still burned from exertion. Their coach hadn’t gone easy on them since they’d lost against Karasuno in the practice match, even if the captain had been missing for most of the game. </p><p>Tooru shifted, and his hair tickled Hajime’s shoulder. “Of course. I would’ve told Aya-chan’s boyfriend that I wasn’t actually seeing her behind his back. Then I wouldn’t have been slapped in the face last week.”</p><p>“You deserved it,” Hajime said automatically. “The slap from her boyfriend.”</p><p>“Well, the bright red handprint did bring some intrigue from the ladies,” Tooru replied, and Hajime could practically hear him smiling. “And it barely hurt. So I suppose it wasn’t a regret at all.”</p><p>“You know what I meant. I’m talking about important things, not your fling with Ayaka.”</p><p>“Actually, her name’s Ayano.” Tooru paused. “I think.”</p><p>"You don't know your girlfriend's name?!"</p><p>"She wasn't a girlfriend! Just... a friend who's a girl. It's perfectly fair that I don't remember her name."</p><p>“That settles it. You’re an asshole who deserves to be beaten up, Shittykawa.”</p><p>“That’s okay, I’d still look handsome! Maybe it would add to my bad boy image. What do you think, Iwa-chan?”</p><p>“God, that’s embarrassing. Don’t say that again.”</p><p>“What?” Hajime couldn’t see his face, but he knew Tooru was definitely smiling now. “Bad boy image?”</p><p>“Shut up. You’re not a rule breaker, you’re just a jock.”</p><p>“No, <em> you’re </em> a jock. I’m a winsome delinquent.”</p><p>“The last time you broke a rule was when you started practicing against the doctor’s orders.” Hajime felt very strongly about doctor’s orders, especially when it came to Tooru’s knee and volleyball. Tooru had told him often that he’d listen to Hajime if he were a doctor; until then, he was going to resolutely ignore his advice. “And who the hell calls himself winsome?”</p><p>“I do.”</p><p>“Because you’re a dumbass.”</p><p>“Fine. I’m a handsome jock, then. But you can’t argue on the handsome part.’</p><p>Hajime heaved a sigh. “A handsome jock is still a jock, dumbass.”</p><p>“So you <em>do</em> think I’m handsome!” Tooru exclaimed.</p><p>“I don’t<em> - </em>”</p><p>“It’s okay, you don’t have to be jealous. Not everyone hits the genetic jackpot like I do, you know. Sometimes," Tooru said, voice soft like he was cooing to a baby, "we turn out like Iwa-chan. Unfortunate, but it's okay."</p><p>“I’m not fucking jealous, you ass.”</p><p>“It's okay, Iwa-chan! It’s comforting to know that there’s a universe in which you’re actually good looking,” Tooru said brightly.</p><p>Hajime was used to conversations about parallel universes. Recently, Tooru had been increasingly interested in actual science rather than aliens and sci-fi. He scowled and gave Tooru a light shove in the shoulder, thinking that he’d rather argue about Tooru’s looks than his own. “And one where you’re ugly as hell, Oikawa.”</p><p>“Oh, so you truly don’t think I’m ugly in this universe?” Tooru’s face lit up with a smile, and Hajime made the mistake of looking at him then. “Right after you called me handsome, too! I’m finding it hard to believe that you don’t find me irresistible.”</p><p>Unbidden, the thought of <em> But I do find you irresistible </em> came to mind. Hajime looked away, hoping he hadn’t hesitated long enough for Tooru to catch on. “You’re hideous,” he said. “The absolute worst.”</p><p>Tooru laughed. “There’s a universe that has an even <em> more </em>attractive me in it, you know? Maybe we’re lucky that we don’t live in that one. I don’t think the world could handle it.”</p><p>“Nothing to handle there, Oikawa.” </p><p>“Hey, that’s just mean.”</p><p>“It’s the truth.”</p><p>“The truth, huh?”</p><p>“Yep. Sorry to break it to you.”</p><p>“Hm,” Tooru said, and Hajime had the feeling that he had lost interest in their conversation and was thinking of something else. He’d been doing it more and more often since they'd started their last year of high school. When Hajime looked over at him, Tooru was staring out the window. His eyes had a faraway look to them, like a veil had covered his consciousness, but he still had the hint of a smile on his face.</p><p>“Well, even for things as small as how good looking I am,” Tooru said, suddenly brightening up, “there’s a universe for everything.” </p><p>Hajime considered the breakfast he’d eaten that morning, the things he’d said at practice that afternoon, the angle of the spikes he’d hit, and he nodded. Then bigger things, like his friendship with Tooru and his choice of school and everything else that was on his mind. And, of course, he thought of Tooru’s right knee clad in a white brace. “Yeah. It’s almost unfathomable.”</p><p>“Wow, <em> unfathomable</em>. Iwa-chan knows a big word!” Tooru clapped his hands together in excitement, and Hajime swatted at his shoulder. </p><p>“Shut up. It’s just weird to think that everything could be going differently.”</p><p>“You’re right, it is weird.” Tooru stretched out his hands towards the ceiling, and Hajime watched his pale fingers extend. “There’s a universe in which you’re, I don’t know, four feet tall and terrible at volleyball.”</p><p>He scoffed. “And one where you go to Shiratorizawa.”</p><p>“I would <em> never </em>set for Ushiwaka-chan. Ever. And Seijoh needs me.”</p><p>“Sure, Oikawa.”</p><p>“Can you imagine a universe where you're a setter and I’m a wing spiker?”</p><p>Hajime tried, but he wasn’t able to see their dynamic with him tossing volleyballs for Tooru to slam onto the other side of the court. He knew Tooru had the talent to do whatever he wanted, and maybe Hajime could be better at setting than Yahaba if he tried hard enough, but he couldn’t picture it. “Nah. You’re too controlling to not be the setter.”</p><p>“Oh, Iwa-chan, you don’t have the sensibility and capability to be a setter anyway. How about a universe where you play, I don’t know, baseball or something?”</p><p>"What if we swam?"</p><p>"Or did track and field?"</p><p>Hajime frowned. “Or a universe where neither of us played volleyball.” </p><p>It was the wrong thing to say, evidently, because Tooru fell silent.</p><p>Hajime cleared his throat, trying to backtrack without seeming like he was obviously steering the conversation away from the idea of not playing volleyball. “Scary to think about, isn’t it?” </p><p>“Not scary. Just… unusual.” Tooru's tone was light despite the odd gravity of his words, and his gaze followed the trees as they danced with the wind. “All the decisions we did and didn’t make, all the lucky chances. Somewhere, at some time, they’ve all gone differently. For better or for worse. Just like what you said about decisions.”</p><p>Hajime felt out of his depth. “Right. So… ?” He hadn’t meant to sound dismissive, but as he trailed off, he felt the uncomfortable sense that he had misspoken settle over them. </p><p>There was a long pause. When he looked at Tooru, the contemplative look was gone, and the teasing glint and hard veneer of charm were back. With Tooru, his expression was his armor.</p><p>Tooru propped himself up on his elbows. “So nothing. We should go shower. You’re gross and I’m sweaty.”</p><p>Hajime straightened up, feeling his shirt cling to his back, and leaned over to slug him. “How come I’m called gross and you’re only sweaty?”</p><p>“That’s just the way this world works,” Tooru sang, jumping up and dodging Hajime’s wild swing. </p><p>“Shittykawa, one day, I’ll actually kill -”</p><p>“I call dibs on the shower! You take all the hot water when you go first.”</p><p>“Your showers,” Hajime said, his teeth grinding, “last for an entire hour. And I do not take all the hot water, you’re just overly sensitive about the temperature.”</p><p>Tooru made a gesture like he was waving off his concerns as he darted up the stairs and almost out of sight. “Let’s go, Iwa-chan!” He grinned. “There’s still so much to do in this universe.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Hajime wasn’t sure when Tooru’s obsession with parallel universes began.</p><p>It was true that he had always been interested in physics and conspiracy theories and sci-fi, and perhaps the culmination of his interests along with his propensity for dreaming had lent itself to parallel universes. Maybe he’d always loved it or maybe he’d stumbled upon a piece of science fiction or maybe he read it in some speculative article online and never forgotten.</p><p>No matter its origin, Hajime knew that Tooru imagined alternate dimensions for everything he could think of. He brought it up occasionally, pointing out how different things could be. Hajime wasn’t certain if Tooru was trying to be grateful for his situation in a roundabout, Tooru-like way, if he was just innocently curious about different dimensions, or something else entirely. He could never really tell with Tooru.</p><p>Still, It generally didn’t seem deeper than different physical appearances for him: Tooru liked to say things like, “What if my nose had a higher bridge?” or “What if this pimple hadn’t left this scar here?” all the time, but he rarely voiced any greater concerns. If Hajime brought up anything related to volleyball, Tooru would shut down the topic of conversation without batting an eyelash.</p><p>The first time Tooru had brought the topic of parallel universes up, they were barely into middle school and at their first few volleyball practices. Kitagawa Daiichi’s volleyball team was a dream come true to them. Their hands were still smooth and callus-free, knees barely beginning to bruise from receives and saves.</p><p>“Hey, Iwa-chan, ever heard of a parallel universe?” Tooru asked him. They were running around the court trying to corral the errant volleyballs that upperclassmen were spiking, a punishment for chatting while the coach was talking. </p><p>“A what?” Hajime dodged the blue and yellow flash of a Mikasa ball that seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Jesus, I almost got hit.”</p><p>“A parallel universe,” Tooru said impatiently.</p><p>“What’s that?”</p><p>“I guess you haven’t heard of it,” Tooru tried to mimic Hajime palming the volleyball in one hand, but it fell to the ground. His hand wasn't quite large enough yet, and he sniffed in distaste. “It’s a theory that there are different worlds out there for everything.”</p><p>“Is this a sci-fi thing?” Hajime asked. Tooru reached out to stop a volleyball from hitting him in the head.</p><p>"Sort of."</p><p>“I don’t really get it, Oikawa."</p><p>“Like there’s a different world for every little thing that ever happened. In some of them, you don’t exist. Or you have blond hair. Or you're a girl. Or you don’t live in Japan or go to Kitagawa Daiichi or play volleyball.”</p><p>Hajime couldn’t imagine any worlds like those; they all seemed equally outlandish. He felt like here, where he was now, was the only place in the world that he belonged. “But that’s not possible.”</p><p>“No, the point is that they’re <em> all </em> possible.” Tooru tossed the volleyballs at his feet into the black cart on wheels, setting them all with a precision that Hajime lacked. “They’re all real, and they’ll all happen eventually. Or they’ve already happened. Or they’re happening right now, as we speak, somewhere far, far away from here.”</p><p>“At a different Kitagawa Daiichi,” Hajime deadpanned. </p><p>“Yeah, or anywhere else you can think of. Or can’t think of. And at any time, ever.”</p><p>“But that’s so many universes.”</p><p>“It’s an unfathomably large number.” Tooru picked up another volleyball. He was the only middle schooler Hajime knew who used the word “unfathomably” in casual conversation or really knew its definition at all. “Not even a number the way we know it, thought. It’s like infinity.”</p><p>“That’s just a theory,” Hajime said, handing a ball to him.</p><p>“Well, I like to believe it.” Tooru set the last one, which landed on top of the neat pyramid in the cart with a soft thud. He smiled. “Some people say gravity’s just a theory, but you believe in gravity, don’t you?”</p><p>Hajime wanted to say that it was different, but Tooru’s scientific knowledge and argumentative skills far outpaced his, so he just frowned and shrugged. The only thing he recalled about gravity was some apocryphal story about Newton and an apple falling onto his head, but he realized he couldn’t bring that up without Tooru potentially ripping open his entire argument for being fallacious or some over fancy high school word he’d picked up. “Okay, yeah.”</p><p>“I think they’re real. And we’re living in one of many different universes.”</p><p>They looked up as the shrill sound of the Kitagawa coach whistling rang through the court, and the thuds of volleyballs hitting the floor stopped. </p><p>“Gather around, everyone,” the coach called from behind the net. He nodded to Tooru and Hajime, beckoning them forward with a flick of his wrist. “You too, first years. We’ve gotta talk about the upcoming match against Chidoriyama.”</p><p>As they started walking towards the group of middle school players at the edge of the room, Hajime nudged Tooru. “I like this universe,” he said quietly.</p><p>Tooru’s lips quirked up when he looked at Hajime. “I like this universe, too.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It was a warm Thursday afternoon, and the Aoba Johsai Boys Volleyball Club had practice as usual.</p><p>They were doing drills based on their specialties, with Tooru taking up most of the court trying to teach Yahaba how to do a perfect jump serve. Hajime was in the corner with Hanamaki stretching out his limbs.</p><p>“The key,” Tooru said, holding up the ball in one hand, “is to <em>believe</em> that you’re going to do a perfect jump serve.”</p><p>Yahaba’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, that… that doesn’t help at all, Oikawa.”</p><p>Hanamaki snorted beside Hajime, leaning down to touch his toes. “It really doesn’t.”</p><p>“No, no, it’s the best tip I can give you.” Tooru shook his head, insistent. "Also, call me senpai."</p><p>Hanamaki snickered.</p><p>Yahaba winced, but upon Tooru's insistent look, he caved. "Alright, <em>senpai</em>. Got any other tips?"</p><p>Tooru straightened up, smiling smugly. “Confidence is the main thing. The second factor is timing."</p><p>“Okay, well, timing actually helps, but the confidence thing doesn’t really-”</p><p>“It works. Just trust me, my young kohai.” Tooru took a few steps back behind the line around on the court, took a deep breath, and tossed the ball up. He was grinning wickedly when he jumped at and slammed the ball across the court. It landed just inside of the lines, more than strong enough to be a service ace against any team in the prefecture. </p><p>Hanamaki whistled. "Damn."</p><p>Outside the door of the gym, a few of Tooru’s fangirls squealed. Hajime sighed loudly, and Hanamaki patted him on the shoulder in solidarity.</p><p>“Yahaba probably thinks those girls are here for him,” Hajime said, watching as Yahaba purposefully ran a hand through his sandy brown hair.</p><p>Hanamaki laughed, straightening up and loudly cracking his neck in a fashion that was too familiar to Hajime to be intimidating. “He’s got confidence with the ladies but not in his serves, where he actually needs it.”</p><p>Tooru whirled around to face Yahaba, arms outstretched. “Voila,” he exclaimed in an awful French accent, winking at the girls at the gym threshold. “Now, that’s how you do a perfect jump serve. Thank your senpai, Yahaba-chan. You've just witnessed something incredible."</p><p>“What a show-off,” Hajime muttered.</p><p>As Yahaba grabbed a ball from the outskirts of the court and attempted his own jump serve, Hanamaki stood up. “Oh, Oikawa’s coming over.”</p><p>Hajime could see Oikawa doing a half-walk, half-jog that he said was “most advantageous and flattering for his figure” across the gym, an easy smile on his face. “Hey, Iwa-chan! What’re you and Makki doing?”</p><p>“Stretches,” Hajime said. “Which I noticed you skipped today.” His eyes went to the black knee pads Tooru wore. Tooru’s doctor had told him that he needed to start wearing a white knee brace and warming up religiously, but he hadn’t listened. </p><p>Hajime saw Tooru’s smile grow a little thinner when he caught his eye, but Hanamaki didn’t seem to notice. Tooru sat down beside them, back to the wall and long legs crossed. “I know stretches are important.” </p><p>“I know you’re aware of it,” Hajime replied, not looking at him. “But that’s different from understanding.”</p><p>Tooru said nothing. Hajime noticed that the girls lingering at the door had started to filter out now that Tooru wasn’t paying attention to them or the volleyball.</p><p>Hanamaki scratched the back of his head, looking away. “I’m gonna go find Matsukawa,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the rest of the court. “Convenience store meat buns after practice?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Hajime nodded, waving at Hanamaki as he left. He turned to Tooru and opened his mouth, but the unfamiliar bitterness in Tooru’s eyes stopped him.</p><p>“I’m really okay. I’m doing my physical therapy and everything’s working out just fine.”</p><p>Hajime felt like his throat was dry. He didn’t want to have this conversation with Tooru. “Where’s your knee brace, then?”</p><p>Tooru looked away stubbornly. “In the locker room.”</p><p>“Go get it. You know you should be wearing it, Oikawa.”</p><p>Tooru’s hand was resting lightly on his right knee, ghosting over some invisible pain, inches away from Hajime’s leg. “The knee pads provide enough support. I said I’m okay.”</p><p>“Knee pads aren’t meant to provide support for injuries. They’re supposed to protect uninjured knees.”</p><p>“I’m not injured,” Tooru said.</p><p>“Look, an injury's an injury, Oikawa. Denial’s not going to fix it.” Hajime’s voice softened when he noticed Hanamaki and Matsukawa across the gym, looking in their direction.</p><p>“I’m not in denial,” Tooru said with such finality that Hajime couldn’t try arguing. “I just don’t want anyone else to know yet.”</p><p>“Well, have you at least told Coach Irihata about it?” Hajime looked over to the Seijoh coach, talking in the corner with a couple of younger players. “He should know.”</p><p>“I’ll tell him today.”</p><p>Hajime hesitantly shifted so his leg brushed Oikawa’s right knee. “And the brace?”</p><p>“I’ll wear it starting tomorrow.” Tooru cracked a smile. “This means I don’t have to buy as many knee pads, right?”</p><p>Hajime exhaled forcefully. “Right. Look on the bright side.”</p><p>Tooru's palm was cold next to Hajime. “You know, in a parallel universe,” he said, his voice cracking, “I don’t have any knee injury at all.”</p><p>Hajime wanted to say something optimistic like “hey, in a parallel universe, it could be even worse” but stopped when he saw that Tooru still had his eyes closed. He wasn't crying, just breathing deeply in and out, but Hajime could see the pressure of how hard his eyes were squeezed shut.</p><p>So he simply bumped his leg against Tooru’s knee, and they said nothing for a few minutes, a brief respite from the chaos of volleyball practice. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Hanamaki had hurried off from the cafe with frantic apologies, saying that he had to meet up with someone that night. </p><p>“An old college friend wants to grab drinks with me,” he’d said, grabbing his coat. “Let’s talk again soon, Iwaizumi.” Hajime had thought briefly that the real sign of them growing up and apart was that he didn’t know all of his friends’ other friends anymore.</p><p>Hanamaki had given a simple nod to Mattsun, and Hajime knew that they were still the kind of close friends who had their own language, one that Hajime didn’t know.</p><p>He’d shared something like that with Tooru a few years ago, back when they were still young and hopeful at Seijoh. Things hadn’t changed much when they went to separate colleges. They’d still called each other frequently, to the point that another girlfriend of Tooru’s broke up with him because Hajime claimed too much of his time, but both of them it was because he and Tooru were making a conscious effort to stay friends.</p><p>After college graduation, as proper adults in the real world, Hajime was so busy with medical school that he barely had time to sleep. He’d forgo his rest any night to talk to Tooru, but Tooru was busy, too, and it seemed like their schedules never aligned. Hajime realized that he was an adult when he said shit like “I’m booked that night already” to Tooru. And now they only spoke sporadically. </p><p>Hajime held his phone in his hand, about to call an Uber, as Matsukawa threw away their trash. </p><p>“Hey, you don’t have a car, do you?” Matsukawa asked. “I’ll give you a ride home.”</p><p>“Thanks, Mattsun,” Hajime said, grateful.</p><p>Matsukawa’s car was a beat-up, cream-colored Mini Cooper that stuck out like a sore thumb in the dark parking lot. “Iwaizumi,” he said, pulling out his keys, “meet my baby. Her name’s Minnie and she’s the joy of my life.”</p><p>“Of course you named your car,” Hajime laughed, shaking his head. He tugged on the handle of the door.</p><p>“She’s got feelings, you know. Which is more than I can say for you.” Matsukawa handed him his phone. “Here, put in your address.”</p><p>“Actually,” Hajime said, his fingers hesitating, “can you drive me to the library instead?”</p><p>“It’s past ten o'clock on a Friday. And you want to go to the <em>library</em>?”</p><p>“Yeah, there’s one by the hospital. It’s open twenty-four seven.”</p><p>Matsukawa scrunched his nose up. “You’re still staying up at ungodly hours of the night studying, are you?”</p><p>“I don’t do that anymore,” Hajime insisted. “Not that you or Makki can judge me, though.”</p><p>“Okay, but when we stay up, we’re not <em> studying </em>. We’re out, you know, living life. Like we should be, because we’re young and in our prime and not going to libraries on Friday nights.”</p><p>“I won’t stay there long,” he promised. He was reminded suddenly of the times he and Tooru would sneak out to the gym or nearby parking lot to practice for volleyball, and he’d tell his mother that he would be home by his curfew.</p><p>Matsukawa snorted, but he was following the maps app on his phone. “Whatever you say, man.”</p><p>Hajime learned later during their drive that Matsukawa sped like no one he’d ever met before, even further above the speed limit than Tooru. “Slow the fuck down,” he said, one hand braced out in front of him and the other on the handle bar above the side window. “Or we’re both going to die.”</p><p>“Nah, Minnie can handle this.” As if to emphasize his point, Matsukawa stepped on the gas.</p><p>Hajime leaned back into his seat. “I’m worried about <em> us, </em> not your damn car. And your car is part of the problem.”</p><p>“I’m not driving that fast.”</p><p>“You’re literally fifteen miles above the speed limit.”</p><p>“I thought you’d be used to speeding,” Matsukawa pointed out, eyes flicking from the road to Hajime. “Tooru drives like a maniac.”</p><p>“Yeah, but he’s also an awful driver.” Hajime hadn’t driven in Tooru’s car since their first year of undergrad, and he had no idea if Tooru was still as bad as he used to be. He swallowed roughly. </p><p>Matsukawa tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as they stopped at a red light. “You talk to Tooru recently?”</p><p><em> No. </em> Hajime opted for a casual shrug, but he felt stiff. “Sometimes.”</p><p>“You should talk to him and catch up.”</p><p>“There’s really not much to catch up on.”</p><p>Matsukawa looked at him, and Hajime turned to face the window. “Really, Iwaizumi? What happened to you two? You used to be joined at the hip, and now I talk to him more than you do.”</p><p>“Nothing happened,” Hajime said, which wasn’t a lie. “We just… drifted apart. People do that.”</p><p>“Not you and Oikawa. Makki and I didn’t, and I still talk to you and Oikawa individually, so don’t give me your bullshit about people changing after high school. We’re still the same, you know.”</p><p>“Well, we just stopped talking as much. That’s all.”</p><p>“Then send him a text, dude. Or give him a call. It can’t hurt.”</p><p>Hajime wanted to argue more, but the look on Matsukawa’s face made him pull out his phone and open up his messages app. He scrolled through the conversations until he got to Tooru’s name, an innocuous <em> Oikawa Tooru. </em> It used to be <em> Shittykawa </em> before Hajime had changed it to <em> Tooru </em>, and then they’d stopped talking regularly and Hajime changed the name to be as impersonal as possible.</p><p>According to the app, they had last texted two months ago. Hajime winced.</p><p>“What do I even say to him?” He asked, feeling dumb.</p><p>Matsukawa pulled into the library’s near-empty parking lot, coming to a stop just outside the door. “That’s up to you.”</p><p>As Hajime got out of the car, he paused. “Thanks for the ride, Mattsun.”</p><p>“Anytime, Iwaizumi.” Matsukawa pointed towards Hajime’s phone. “And make sure you speak with him.”</p><p>“I will,” Hajime said, and Matsukawa nodded with a small smile. As the Mini Cooper drove out of sight, Hajime stayed out in the cold and pressed the call button. He had no idea what to text Tooru, and if he was being honest, he was hoping that Tooru wouldn’t pick up.</p><p>As the phone rang, Hajime watched his exhales become visible puffs of air. Winters in Tokyo weren’t as cold as back in Miyagi, but he still felt the chill of the night air piercing through the cheap coat he wore to the university hospital.</p><p>Tooru’s voice came on the line, and for a split second Hajime thought that he’d picked up, but it was only him telling the caller that he was busy and to please leave a message. Hajime ended the call and sent a quick message: <em> Hey, Oikawa, how have you been going recently? I heard from Mattsun that you’re going to be a lecturer </em>.</p><p>It felt cold and awful and unfriendly, but he didn’t know what else to say, so he sent the message. It sounded like a message to an acquaintance or a colleague, not to a childhood friend. Or an ex-friend. Whatever he and Tooru were.</p><p>Hajime silently cursed Matsukawa for meddling, even if he’d had good intentions, and he hated himself for falling out with Tooru in the first place. Was it even a falling out if they still maintained an awkward pretense of friendship? He wasn’t sure if it was better to hang on to the thread of hope that he and Tooru would someday be the best of friends, “joined at the hip” like Matsukawa said they were, or to give up those foolish daydreams. </p><p>He used to think that they would never be apart, but now here he was - standing outside of a public library alone, contemplating the oddly formal text he’d just sent to Tooru, who didn’t even have a special nickname or endearment or emoji in his contact name.</p><p>Hajime felt sick. He tucked his phone into his coat pocket and walked into the library.</p><p>He waved to the kind old librarian, Nakamura, who was sitting at the circulation desk, speeding past her before she could accost him with questions. He settled down in his favorite spot in the library and opened his laptop. In the comfortable, quiet solitude of the library, he fished a medical exam test prep book from his backpack, glad for the caffeine in his system as the clock ticked to eleven at night. With his reading glasses on (how much had his eyesight deteriorated over the years that he needed reading glasses, anyway?) Hajime slowly yet successfully distracted himself from thinking about friendships and regrets and what-ifs.</p><p>When he returned to his apartment, half-asleep with his mind still on muscular anatomy, he didn’t notice the notification on his phone for a missed call from Oikawa Tooru.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i just like the idea of iwaizumi becoming a doctor and oikawa getting into physics, and i've been thinking about parallel universes and growing up and life in general, so here we are. hopefully the non-linear narrative and timeline don't get too confusing.</p><p>i'm trying to incorporate some canon details into the fic, but there won't be any real spoilers for things that haven't been aired in the anime already. i know the characters' dynamics may have changed during more recently published manga chapters, but this is all my own interpretation.</p><p>much love, and thank you for reading! kudos/comments mean the world to me.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. ad astra per aspera</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Is this about college? Or about volleyball?” Hajime's voice came out softer and more vulnerable than he intended. He had the strange sense that he already knew the answer.</p><p>Tooru bit his lip, trying to hide his smile. “Good guess.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ad astra per aspera roughly translates from latin as "to the stars through difficulties." fun fact: it's the state motto of kansas!</p><p>by the way, OR stands for "operating room," where surgeries take place. an attending physician is basically a Real Doctor in the US.</p><p>--</p><p>hope you enjoy the story!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“There’s a former Seijoh player coming to watch our practice today,” Coach Irihata announced. He fixed his stern gaze on the cluster of third years in the corner, eyes narrowing when they landed on Tooru and Hajime. “So don’t embarrass the Seijoh name, and stay sharp. Got it?”</p><p>“More alumni,” Hanamaki said with a sigh. “I can’t even imagine coming back here after I graduate. Once I’m out, I’m gone for good.”</p><p>Matsukawa laughed. “Yeah, right. You wouldn’t pass up a chance to brag around the freshmen, Makki.”</p><p>“Why’s someone here to watch us practice?” Watari, their libero, asked. “Shouldn’t he, I don’t know, go to a match or something?”</p><p>“He’s in town today.” Irihata smiled. “He’s a professional volleyball player, you know. He’s busy most of the time, out of the country and everything. Still pretty young - twenty-six - and in his prime.”</p><p>There was a murmur of interest that rippled through the group of players seated on the floor. Irihata looked pleased by the response. </p><p>Hajime gently nudged Tooru, who elbowed him back. “A professional,” Hajime whispered. “From our very own high school.”</p><p>He didn’t miss Tooru’s small, hopeful smile.</p><p>“Coach, coach! What team does he play for? And what position? Do we know him?” Kindaichi blurted, his arm straight up in the air.</p><p>“Isn’t it that guy Hayashi?” Hanamaki said loudly. “He graduated, like, a <em> decade </em> ago. My older brother told me about him back when he played volleyball.”</p><p>Irihata waved at Kindaichi to put his arm down. “Eight years ago, if I’m recalling correctly. His name’s Hayashi Masaru, and he was our setter way back when he went to school here. Now he’s playing for a team in Australia and training to make it onto the Olympic team. There’s some tough competition out there.”</p><p>“Australia,” Hajime muttered. “Damn.” </p><p>“He’s a setter?” Yahaba looked at Tooru, grinning. “He can give us some pointers, then. Right, Oikawa?”</p><p>Tooru casually threw an arm over Yahaba’s shoulder and beamed. “I’m going to learn everything I can from this guy, then go pro myself. You’ll have another professional setter from Seijoh, Coach. It’ll be like a tradition! I’ll be like Hayashi, and Yahaba will follow in my footsteps.”</p><p>“I guess we’ll find out.” Irihata rolled his eyes, but Hajime could see the fondness that the coach had for his star captain. “Now, Hayashi’s an interesting setter, but he’s a little different from you, Oikawa. You’ll see.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Hayashi Masaru wasn’t just “a little different” from Tooru. To Hajime, he seemed like the polar opposite.</p><p>For one, he was incredibly tan and stocky, muscles flexing in his arms with every movement he made. There was no expression on his weathered face, but his eyes were piercing and beady.</p><p>Hajime looked down at Tooru’s pale ankles and blue veins. “Hey, Oikawa,” Hajime whispered. “In another universe, you look like him.”</p><p>Tooru’s nose scrunched up. “Hm. Insulting.”</p><p>“It wasn’t an insult to him or you. I’m just saying.”</p><p>“Well, you already look like him in <em> this </em> universe.”</p><p>“Like a pro volleyball player, you mean?” Hajime looked down at himself appreciatively. “Nice.”</p><p>“No, like a brute. You don’t look like a pro at all, Iwa-chan.”</p><p>Hajime responded by shoving him in the side. “Don’t call me or him a brute, you ass.”</p><p>“This is Hayashi Masaru, who plays for a league in Australia,” Irihata announced. “Hayashi, why don’t you introduce yourself?”</p><p>"The name's Hayashi. I graduated eight years ago. I used to be Seijoh’s setter.” He nodded stiffly.</p><p>Tooru let out a small laugh. “What a charming guy.”</p><p>They learned that Hayashi was no-nonsense in situations where Tooru wanted to mess around, but he lightened up when Tooru got serious. He didn’t boast or bluster like Tooru did in front of large groups of people. He referred to everyone in polite speech, even though they were years younger than him. He didn’t smile often; he barely laughed. And he told them in a monotonous voice that he came thirty minutes early to all practices to do what he called his “explosive dynamic stretching warm-up routine.” It made sense that he’d never once gotten injured.</p><p>“<em>Never </em>?” Yahaba asked. “I know you don’t mean, like, bruises, but… no sprains? Fractures? Nothing?”</p><p>Hayashi’s face was stony. “It’s vital for a volleyball player to take care of himself.” He tapped the whiteboard behind him with one of his knuckles. He was towering above them as they sat on the floor, 190 centimeters of brawn. “Follow the routine. Be cautious. That way, you won’t give yourself unnecessary injuries.”</p><p>Hajime could feel Tooru stiffen beside him. His hand went to his knee.</p><p>“Did you play volleyball in college, too?” Watari was one of the few third years who knew what he wanted to do with volleyball after high school - go to college, play as libero on an intramural team, and be done with volleyball. For the others, including Hajime and Tooru, it wasn’t so simple. </p><p>Hayashi ran a hand over his head. His hair was shaved into a neat buzzcut, not unlike the intense wing spiker from Karasuno. “I played for a few months, but I dropped out when I got an offer from a Division 1 team in the league.”</p><p>“So you chose volleyball over school?” Watari asked.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Hajime thought about Tooru’s rank in the top five percent of their grade and said nothing.</p><p>“But you must be really smart to be a setter,” Yahaba interjected, talking to Hayashi like no one else had their hands up to ask him a question. “Even if your grades weren’t top tier, your setting was amazing.”</p><p>“Wow, listen to him,” Hajime muttered just loud enough for Tooru to hear. “Yahaba’s shameless.”</p><p>“Well, he’s not wrong about the amazing setting. And flattery would work on me, too, Iwa-chan. That’s why Yahaba is one of my favorite underclassmen.”</p><p>“No, you only like him because he’s like a miniature version of you. A show-off.”</p><p>Hayashi didn’t seem impressed by Yahaba’s comments, and he looked more stoic than ever. Hajime turned to Tooru. “I wonder how he could be such a good setter when he seems so closed off.”</p><p>Tooru tapped a finger to his chin. “He reminds me of Nekoma’s setter. Or Kunimi-chan over here.”</p><p>A few feet away, Kunimi’s eyebrows lifted infinitesimally. He said nothing. </p><p>“Nekoma’s setter is a full twenty centimeters shorter than him,” Hanamaki joined in. “And actually has hair. And Kunimi’s… Kunimi. No offense.”</p><p>“Why would his name be offensive?” Hajime whispered, stifling his laughter.</p><p>Tooru leaned towards Kunimi and pulled at his cheeks, stretching them out as Kunimi looked at them blankly. “Right, but Hayashi looks like the type that’s reserved and knows his own worth. Like his team would trust him wholeheartedly and implicitly despite his stoic nature. He seems to be emotionless, but he’s found his own goals through volleyball, and that’s his motivation for taking it to a professional level.”</p><p>Hanamaki looked impressed.</p><p>“Oikawa,” Hajime hissed. “Quit psychoanalyzing him. Coach is looking at us.”</p><p>Irihata shot them a withering glare. “Boys, be quiet. Be respectful of your senpai talking.”</p><p>They nodded, quiet for a moment before Hanamaki spoke up.</p><p>“Does someone eight years older than us still count as a senpai?” He leaned back, resting on his palms. “He’s like a sensei or a coach or something. On par with Irihata, I think. Old and wrinkly.”</p><p>Hajime frowned. “Nah, Irihata’s fifty something. Not exactly ancient. And in the grand scheme of things, Hayashi’s barely older than us.”</p><p>“Fifty is old! Plus Hayashi’s, what, twenty-six now? And you’re saying that late twenties isn’t old compared to us? He’s, like, fifty percent older.”</p><p>“I didn’t know Hanamaki could do math,” Kunimi muttered. </p><p>“Is twenty-six even late twenties? Isn’t it mid-twenties?” Tooru had the smirk he wore when he was getting ready to argue semantics. His eyes flicking to Hayashi, then back to Hanamaki.</p><p>Hanamaki made a face. “Mid-twenties?” </p><p>“From twenty-four to twenty-six is mid-twenties. Early twenties are twenty to twenty-three, and late twenties are twenty-seven to twenty-nine.”</p><p>“Huh? Who the hell categorizes them like that? They’re supposed to be arbitrary. I say twenty-six is late twenties.”</p><p>“Not the point, man,” Hajime said. “And we’ll be twenty-six years old before we know it. Some third years at other high schools are already nineteen, you know.”</p><p>Hanamaki shuddered in response. “I can’t even imagine being twenty. Don’t scare me, Iwaizumi.”</p><p>“<em>Boys. Quiet. </em>”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Happy twenty-first birthday, Makki,” Hajime said, wedging the phone next to his ear. He smiled at the professors he saw walking across the quad. “I wish I could tell you in person, but this’ll have to do.”</p><p>There was a groan. “It’s eight in the fucking morning, Iwaizumi. No one gets up this damn early. I can’t believe you woke me up to say happy birthday.”</p><p>Hajime hurried across the sidewalk, shivering but smiling into the phone despite himself. “I didn’t realize you were still sleeping. And eight’s really not that early.”</p><p>“Bro, I slept at seven.”</p><p>Hajime’s eyebrows raised. “In the evening, or… ?”</p><p>“In the morning. Seven AM. An hour ago.”</p><p>“Makki. Dude. Are you okay?”</p><p>Hanamaki sighed across the line, and Hajime could hear a distant thud followed by swearing. “Had a mid-life crisis yesterday night thinking about getting older.”</p><p>“A<em> mid </em>-life crisis?”</p><p>“Quarter-life crisis? Life crisis in general? Who the hell knows?”</p><p>Hajime exhaled forcefully, hiding his laughter. “Sounds rough. Sorry for waking you up after a long night.”</p><p>“Well, it could have been worse. Matsukawa was there, so he stopped me from consuming my body weight in alcohol.” There was another loud clunk. “Not that I was happy about that a few hours ago…  He can tell you the details if you want.”</p><p>“I don’t think I want to know about your escapades from last night,” Hajime said, walking briskly towards the science building. “I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”</p><p>“<em>E</em><em>scapades </em> . Holy shit, you sound like Oikawa. Is this what moving to Tokyo does to people? Should <em> I </em>move to Tokyo?”</p><p>Hajime laughed out loud, thinking of all the times he used to make fun of Oikawa’s vocabulary back in high school and middle school. “I guess he’s rubbing off on me. Not sure about it being a Tokyo thing, though.”</p><p>“Well, you’re both pretentious now. Even Mattsun sounds like that, writing his book and sounding like a goddamn thesaurus. I can’t believe you’d all do this to me.”</p><p>“I called to say happy twenty-first birthday, you ungrateful ass.”</p><p>Hajime could imagine Hanamaki scowling. “Stop saying twenty-first. It makes me sound old.”</p><p>“No, it doesn’t.”</p><p>“Yeah, it really does.”</p><p>“I’m twenty-one, too, you know. So is Oikawa.”</p><p>“We’re all getting old. No big deal.”</p><p>“Dude, there’s barely a distinction between twenty and twenty-one. It’s not like we’re nineteen going on twenty.”</p><p>“Nineteen to twenty was the worst. Iwaizumi, bro, the next time the first digit of my age changes, I’ll be thirty. <em> Thirty. </em>”</p><p>“So this isn’t that bad. Not much difference between a two-zero and a two-one, is there?”</p><p>“No, there is.” Hanamaki sounded more bitter than tired now. “Sixteen was different from seventeen, which was different from eighteen, which was different from nineteen, which was different from twenty, and now all the years are blending together. It’s a sign. We’re going to be old and senile soon.”</p><p>“Makki, you’re not old. Neither of us are.” Hajime scanned his ID card to the building, and the door unlocked with an audible click. “I’ll leave you alone for now, okay? I’ve got to get to class.”</p><p>“At eight in the morning? Damn. I'd feel bad for you, but you probably scheduled it yourself.”</p><p>“Go back to sleep,” Hajime said, moving past the elevator and towards the stairs. “I’ll be in Miyagi next week, so let’s hang out then. You, me, Oikawa, and Matsukawa.”</p><p>“Okay, okay. Tell Oikawa hi for me, all right? I doubt he’ll remember my birthday this year, he always forgets everyone’s but yours.”</p><p>“Happy birthday again, Makki.” Hajime smiled. “I’ll tell him.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Hajime unlocked his phone, finger hovering over the voicemail play button on the phone app. </p><p>It was seven in the morning and he was sitting alone in the orthopedics department room, too cowardly to listen to a voicemail on his phone. He had his phone in one hand and an empty cup of espresso from the cafe downstairs in the other.</p><p>The message was apparently about a minute in length, longer than he’d been expecting. He steeled himself, pressed it, and waited.</p><p>There were a few seconds of quiet breathing in the voicemail, and then Tooru’s voice. “Hey, this is Oikawa… Sorry I missed your call, I was busy.”</p><p>Hajime closed his eyes, trying to imagine that Tooru was chattering next to him instead of the tinny voice he heard through the speakers of his phone. </p><p>“So, Iwa-chan -” </p><p>Hajime’s eyes opened. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the sound of his childish nickname from Tooru.</p><p>“- I know Hanamaki’s twenty-sixth birthday is coming up soon, and I heard from Matsukawa a while ago that he’s in Tokyo looking for a job - and, by the way, I think it totally makes sense that I got a job before him - so I thought we should all do something. All four of us.”</p><p>Hajime’s grip on the phone tightened.</p><p>“The star squad back together!” Tooru’s voice exclaimed through the phone. “You, me, Makki, Mattsun, all together to commemorate our fellow friend’s day of birth.”</p><p>He wanted to poke fun at Tooru’s formal speech, but it was a one-way conversation. </p><p>“So let Mattsun know when you’re free, and I’ll make him schedule everything. ”</p><p>Hajime leaned back in his chair. He was ready to cancel all his appointments and tell Matsukawa that he was free every day for the rest of the month.</p><p>“Also, Iwa-chan,” Tooru’s voice trembled just barely, and Hajime heard an audible swallowing sound, “I really like what I’m doing here at the university, and I really like my new job. I hope everything’s going well with you and med school. Talk soon, okay? Good night.”</p><p>The message ended. Hajime moved to replay it, just so he could hear Tooru say Iwa-chan again, when the door opened.</p><p>“Hey, Iwaizumi. What’re you doing?”</p><p>Hajime promptly dropped his phone onto the table and scrambled to catch it. He looked up to see one of the attending physicians - Dr. Higuchi Nagisa, who had run track and field in her college days and insisted that he refer to her by her first name - come into the room. “Hey, Nagisa. Nothing. Just, uh, someone left me a message.”</p><p>Behind the metal frame of her glasses, Nagisa’s eyes widened. Her hand froze on the doorknob. “Is it for the residency position? Did that hospital chair from Hoshino call you?”</p><p>“No, no, nothing like that.” Hajime turned off his phone. “Just…  just someone I know.” He wanted to say <em> a friend</em>, but he hesitated for too long.</p><p>“Aw, and here I was hoping that you’d get some news on when you’ll start over there.” She was frowning as she made her way over to the table. “I was hoping that you’d stay and do your residency here, you know. We could use someone like you.”</p><p>Hajime liked the university hospital, too, but he had his own reasons for moving. “It’s okay. You have Ito and Takahashi, right? They’re both more than enough.” Ito and Takashi were the two residents that he’d gotten to know over the course of his clinical rotations at the hospital. Like Nagisa, they had treated Hajime kindly, and he was going to miss them when he transferred hospitals.</p><p>She took a seat across from him and began to massage her temples, a habit that Hajime had noticed she did when she was stressed or focused. “But fresh blood is good, too. A new first year resident would have been nice.”</p><p>“Sorry, Nagisa. I’d love to work here, but I guess it didn’t work out.”</p><p>Her eyes twinkled as the metal glasses flashed under fluorescent lights. “Ito’s going to be sad when you leave next month, you know.”</p><p>“I’ll be sad, too.” He couldn’t imagine Ito being anything but cheerful, but he didn’t argue the point.</p><p>“She’s going into her second year of residency, and Takahashi is going to be the chief resident for another year… time passes fast, huh?”</p><p>“It does,” Hajime said, but he didn’t completely agree. The past few months had been a blur when he thought about hospital duties and upcoming exams and residency interviews, but now that all of that was over, he felt like time was numbingly slow.</p><p>“Hey, so where exactly is your new hospital? Still in Tokyo, right?”</p><p>“Yeah, still in Tokyo. I’ll be around the Meguro area.”</p><p>“Meguro,” Nagisa smiled, checking her watch. “You know, I used to live in Meguro for college.”</p><p>“College? Was it the University of Tokyo?” Hajime asked, surprised. He hadn’t known Meguro’s alma mater.</p><p>“Yeah, Todai’s Komaba campus. Science students mostly stayed there, and I did biology back then. Good times, good times.” She pointed at him. “You used to go to Keio, right? That’s not too far from Todai.”</p><p>“Yeah, Keio’s sports med program.” Hajime recalled lugging Tooru’s boxes into the Komaba campus dormitory, helping him buy stationery and supplies for his physics classes, eating at a local restaurant and returning to Tooru’s room, drunk on beer and happiness. “I’ve got a… friend who went to Todai. A physics major.”</p><p>She nodded, seeming impressed. “I was awful at physics myself. Anyway, the hospitals near Todai are all top tier. I used to volunteer at them way back in the day. I’d go to class and then track practice and then the hospital. I don’t even know when I had time to sleep.”</p><p>Hajime barely had time to sleep himself as a medical student. His four years of college had passed quickly at Keio, and after getting into med school, he’d just finished another four years in lecture halls and labs and clinics. He tried to imagine himself sitting in a different hospital a decade later, armed with a few gray hairs and a worse eyesight prescription, regaling a fourth year medical student about his times in college. </p><p>“You’ll be in good hands, Iwaizumi.” Nagisa glanced at the sports watch on her wrist again and sighed. “Alright, gotta go. Rounds to make, surgeries to do. You know the drill.”</p><p>Hajime stood up, crumpling the empty espresso cup in his hands. “May I come with you?” He was only asking out of courtesy; she was the attending orthopedic surgeon he shadowed the most often when he came to the hospital.</p><p>Nagisa grinned at him. “Of course. I’ve got a wonderfully difficult ankle surgery scheduled for this morning. It’s kind of fantastic. You’ll see once we get to the OR.”</p><p>He tossed the cup into the trash can on the way out of the room, no longer thinking about Tooru’s message, and shut the door behind him. “Thanks, Nagisa.”</p><p>“You’re very welcome, Iwaizumi.” Nagisa led the way down the hall. “Let’s go save some patients, shall we?”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Hajime, wake up! Oikawa’s here to see you.”</p><p>Hajime’s eyes were bleary as his mom flipped on the lights in his bedroom. He covered his face with the bedsheets. “What? Oikawa?”</p><p>She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the room. “That’s right, dear. You might want to clean up before he comes in.”</p><p>“Why’s Oikawa here?” He poked his head out from under the duvet and looked at the digital clock on his nightstand. <em> 7:18 AM. </em></p><p>“He looks like he has some important news. Get out of bed, and I’ll tell him to come upstairs.”</p><p>Hajime groaned and flopped back onto his bed. There was a brief moment of silence before Tooru burst into the room, the door slamming against the opposite wall with a loud thud.</p><p>“Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan, I-wa-<em>chan</em>! Good morning!”</p><p>“It’s really not.”</p><p>“You’re right, it’s a great morning. A fantastic morning! Spectacular, even!”</p><p>“Stop yelling already, Assikawa. Why couldn’t you text me instead of barging in?”</p><p>“Well, I wanted to talk to you in person and see that lovely scowl, of course.”</p><p>Hajime’s scowl deepened. “And you couldn’t wait until we got to school on Monday.”</p><p>“Of course not!”</p><p>“I hate you.” He watched Tooru’s smile widen.</p><p>“No, you don’t.” Tooru was practically rocking back and forth on his tiptoes as he hovered by the bed. “Aren’t you going to ask why I’m here?”</p><p>Hajime squinted up at him. “Yeah, I’d love to know is what the <em> hell </em>you’re doing in my house at seven in the morning on a fucking Saturday -”</p><p>“I come bearing good news, obviously,” Tooru interrupted, smiling like he hadn’t just woken up Hajime on the one day Hajime got to sleep in. “Really good news.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Hajime rubbed his eyes and blinked. “Good news. Sure.”</p><p>Tooru sat down on the bed, almost squashing Iwaizumi’s thigh. He bounced up and down. “Guess.”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“Guess the good news, Iwa-chan.”</p><p>“Uh…” Hajime shifted over to give Tooru more space on the bed, and patted the space on the pillow next to him. Tooru wordlessly lied down beside him. “Ayaka broke up with you, so you’re free to flirt with other girls now.”</p><p>“So rude! I already told you her name’s Ayano. And we broke up a month ago, so I’ve been talking to plenty of other girls already.”</p><p>Hajime tried not to think about how Tooru said girls. Of course he liked girls, Tooru had always liked only girls. “Okay, go ahead and blame me for not remembering all your flings.”</p><p>“I <em> am </em>blaming you. Guess again.”</p><p>“Um. Takeru said something nice to you yesterday?”</p><p>“Hey, he’s nice to me all the time! I’m his favorite uncle, after all.”</p><p>“You’re his only uncle.” </p><p>“Shush. I’ll be nice and give you one more guess, Iwa-chan! Third time’s the charm.”</p><p>“What a privilege.”</p><p>“<em>Guess</em>.”</p><p>Hajime turned his head to look at him. Tooru’s brown hair was splayed on the dark pillow, and Hajime could see the steady rise and fall of his chest above the bed sheet. Tooru was looking up, eyes on the glow-in-the-dark stars that he’d convinced Hajime to stick on the ceiling when they were in elementary school.</p><p>“Is this about college? Or about volleyball?” Hajime's voice came out softer and more vulnerable than he intended. He had the strange sense that he already knew the answer.</p><p>Tooru bit his lip, trying to hide his smile. “Good guess.”</p><p>“So I’m right?” Hajime sat up, letting the duvet fall. “You got an offer, didn’t you?”</p><p>Tooru nodded slowly. “The volleyball coach at Todai wants me to go visit and talk to him in person.”</p><p>“<em>Todai? </em>As in the University of Tokyo? Seriously?”</p><p>Tooru’s eyes were wide, like he still couldn’t believe the news either. “Yeah, that Todai."</p><p>"The one in Tokyo?"</p><p>"Duh. It's called the University of Tokyo, Iwa-chan."</p><p>Hajime shook his head, stunned. "When'd you find out?"</p><p>"Their volleyball coach sent me an email pretty late last night. It's pretty much set now.”</p><p>“Holy fuck,” Hajime breathed out, not knowing what to say. “That’s - wow. Congrats, Oikawa. You deserve it. Not just from volleyball.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Tooru sat up, facing him, and the expression on his face was genuine. “He knows about my… knee injury, and he’s willing to work around it. They have a sports med specialty, and he said that he has other players with similar injuries who recovered enough to play throughout college. And he thinks I’ll be the same.”</p><p>“Wow,” Hajime repeated. His eyes drifted to Tooru’s bare right knee.</p><p>Tooru nodded absently, fingers drifting down to circle his right knee. “I’m supposed to visit next weekend.”</p><p>“Next weekend?” Hajime looked at the calendar hanging on his wall. “Will you be back in time for Hanamaki’s birthday party? He’s been freaking out about turning nineteen.”</p><p>Tooru looked away. “I’ll be in Tokyo for the entire weekend.”</p><p>“Oh.” So it was a no. “Well, I’m sure Makki will understand. He’ll probably want to follow you to Tokyo, honestly.”</p><p>The smile was back on Tooru’s face, but it looked strained. “Maybe.”</p><p>Hajime leaned on his elbow. “Todai,” he breathed out. “Even the name sounds cool. Wow. The best college in Japan, and you’re going there.”</p><p>“Best physics department in Japan, really,” Tooru corrected him. “Their men’s volleyball team isn’t that great.”</p><p>“You’ll make it great,” Hajime said, and he meant it. </p><p>Tooru looked up at him, and Hajime was taken aback by the look of vulnerability and gratitude on his face.</p><p>The expression changed in an instant to a smug grin. “Of course I will. I’m the best setter I know in high school. And I’ll be the best setter in college, too.”</p><p>“So modest, too.”</p><p>“Aw, you’re just jealous of me because you haven’t heard back from colleges yet.”</p><p>Hajime rolled his eyes. “Nothing about it for me to be jealous of. You earned it, I didn’t. And I’m perfectly fine with staying in Miyagi or going wherever for college as long as it’s got the program I want.”</p><p>“Todai has sports medicine,” Tooru said. He turned so his face was almost completely obscured by the pillow. “Really, really good sports medicine.”</p><p>“Oikawa, I’m not going to Todai. We both know that.”</p><p>“You might.”</p><p>“I’m not, and it’s okay.” Hajime nudged Tooru’s shoulder. “I don’t have grades or recommendations like yours, you know.”</p><p>Tooru nudged him back. “I always used to think that we’d go to the same college.”</p><p>Hajime didn’t want to say that he’d thought so, too, so he just pretended to laugh. “Things don’t always work out the way you imagine, but everything happens for a reason.”</p><p>“Ugh. You sound like my mom.”</p><p>Hajime rolled his eyes and fell back onto the bed. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of Oikawa’s green apple shampoo and feeling himself melt into the bed. “Great. For now, let’s go back to sleep.”</p><p>“I don’t wanna go back to sleep, I want to hang out <em> now</em>.”</p><p>Hajime found a comfortable position and closed his eyes. “We can nap in each other’s company.”</p><p>Tooru crossed his arms, pouting.</p><p>“I’ll buy you milk bread so we can celebrate your college acceptance later, Oikawa. There’s plenty of time left.”</p><p>Hajime felt Tooru poking him insistently in the arm. “Iwa-chan, come on. Get up, get up, get up. I ran over here and everything, and now you won’t even look at me.”</p><p>“No wonder you smell like sweat.” Hajime didn’t want to admit that he didn’t mind the smell.</p><p>“I don't smell like sweat. I smell like flowers.” </p><p>“Shut up, I’m trying to sleep.”</p><p>Hajime felt the bed shift as Tooru jumped off the bed and pulled back the covers. </p><p>Tooru was cackling as goosebumps raised on Hajime’s body. “Revenge is sweet,” he crowed, wrapping the bed sheet around his shoulders like a cape. Hajime thought that with the sunshine peeking through his window blinds, Tooru looked like a king, hair messy from rolling around on the pillow and eyes bright with mirth. </p><p>“Fuck you.” Hajime grabbed the pillow he’d been using and hurled it at his head. </p><p>Tooru dropped the blanket cape and caught it in a flash, an annoying display of his reflexes. He gleefully threw it back to Hajime, who managed to dodge it.</p><p>“Wakey, wakey, Iwa-chan! Let’s go.”</p><p>“I can’t believe anyone puts up with your annoying ass.”</p><p>"You do, though! My antics are endearing, not annoying. And my ass is even better.”</p><p>Hajime squeezed his eyes shut and counted down from ten. “Get the fuck out of my room.”</p><p>“Not until you hurry up and get out of bed, slowpoke!”</p><p>He was tempted to go to sleep then to see how Tooru would react, but he thought of Tooru’s awkward concerns about his reaction to the Todai acceptance. He sighed and rolled out of bed, running one hand through his spiky hair and pointing towards the door with the other. “Get out of my room while I change.”</p><p>Hajime pretended that he didn’t see the wide, grateful smile on Tooru’s face as he skipped out of the room.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Nagisa’s promise of the ankle surgery being “kind of fantastic” did not disappoint. </p><p>Hajime knew that he’d probably be grossed out if he were watching the surgery a few years ago, but now, all he could do was appreciate the complexity of a human’s ankle and Nagisa’s skills. He loved being in the OR, watching the surgical team work in tandem as life-saving machines beeped around them. He found himself inexplicably drawn to the high-stress situations typical in surgery, almost the same feeling as a match point in volleyball during a high stakes game. He itched to be the one calling the shots, holding the metal scalpel, saving the patient’s life.</p><p>As his rotation ended for that day, Hajime went back to the orthopedics department room to grab his things. He had a lot more studying to do before he was in charge of an operating room.</p><p>He looked into the room through the glass window in the door. Ito was sitting at a desk, eyes furrowed as she scrolled through a long wall of text on the computer. </p><p>When Hajime came in, she gave him a bright smile. “Hey, Iwaizumi. Wrapping up for the day?”</p><p>“I’m headed to the library now.” He left the door ajar behind him. </p><p>She laughed, wheeling her chair around so she faced in his direction. “If I were off work right now, I’d be at home and over the moon. And you’re studying more?”</p><p>“I didn’t fully understand the condition that Nagisa operated on today.”</p><p>"That's how we all start off."</p><p>"True." Hajime picked up his bag, ready to go, but he lingered in the room. “I’ve still got a lot to learn before I’m a resident.”</p><p>“Right,” she said, seeming a little distracted. </p><p>Hajime liked talking to Ito; she was the resident who was closest in age to him, and she’d even played volleyball in high school, just like him. The others in the department were all fine -- Nagisa was friendly in a bossy, maternal way as an attending surgeon; the other attendings were all friendly enough to medical students even if did act condescending; the chief resident, Takahashi, was nice but usually so stressed and exhausted that it was hard to carry on a conversation without him rushing off to see a patient or falling asleep on the spot. </p><p>So Ito was the closest to a friend that he had at the hospital.</p><p>“When do you get to go home?” Hajime asked. “Please don’t tell me you’re working the night shift.”</p><p>“Bingo. I’m here until eight in the morning. Only…” Ito’s eyes flicked to the clock on the computer screen. “Fourteen more hours left.”</p><p>“Sorry, that sounds terrible. I feel bad for leaving now.”</p><p>Ito laughed. “You’ll be experiencing it next year. It’s not as bad as you think it is,” she said, but the dark circles under her eyes contradicted her words.</p><p>Hajime must have looked doubtful because she laughed again. “Really, you get used to it after a while. No worries.”</p><p>“Give me one moment,” Hajime said, setting down his bag and slipping out of the room before she could stop him.</p><p>He turned the corner and found the vending machine that he knew Ito frequently bought from. Hajime was presented with an array of brightly colored drinks and snacks, and he could see his own quizzical expression reflected in the large pane of glass.</p><p>Ito’s typical buy was a cold can of coffee, an artificially sweetened drink that Hajime was sure contained more aspartame than caffeine. He inserted a crumpled bill from his pocket into the vending machine and jabbed a few buttons.</p><p>When he returned to the department room, Ito’s chair was still turned to face the door. She’d been leaning forward in her seat, elbows on her knees, and she straightened up when Hajime came in. </p><p>“Oh, Iwaizumi - what’d you leave for?” she asked, gesturing to his bag on the floor.</p><p>He rolled the can of coffee across the table, and Ito caught it before it rolled onto the floor. </p><p>“To get you through the next fourteen hours,” Hajime said in response to the confused look on her face. “I thought you might need it.”</p><p>She looked down at the coffee in her hands, opening the can with a practiced movement of her wrist. “How’d you know what drink I like?”</p><p>“You have that with you every day. I don’t think there’s a person in the hospital who doesn’t know you like that drink.”</p><p>“Oh, right.” Ito sipped from the can and smiled at him. He could see the shine of coffee on her mouth and the reddish lipstick stain on the can from the door. “Thank you, I did need this. How much does this cost again? More or less than a hundred yen?”</p><p>“It was nothing,” Hajime said. “No need to pay me back. Just work hard tonight, yeah?”</p><p>“Maybe I can take you out some time to make it up to you,” Ito said, leaning forward and crossing her legs.</p><p>He shook his head. He hoped it was just his imagination that she was flirting with him. “That’s okay. You don’t owe me anything.”</p><p>“Okay, okay.” She laughed, picking at the aluminum pop tab on the can. “Thanks again, Iwaizumi.”</p><p>“No problem. I’ll get going now,” Hajime said with a polite bow. “See you later, Ito. Good luck with the rest of your shift.”</p><p>Ito opened her mouth to say something, and Hajime paused in the doorway, but she said nothing else. She simply gave him a nod and flashed him a smile, waving as he left.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>A few days after Tooru told Hajime about the offer from the Todai coach, he came knocking on Hajime’s bedroom door in the evening.</p><p>“What’s up?” Hajime had said, opening the door and taking in Tooru’s appearance.</p><p>Tooru’s lips were swollen, and his hair was mussed in a way that told Hajime he’d been making out with someone. Hajime’s gaze drifted down to his neck, where there was a pink lipstick kiss right above a purplish mark that looked suspiciously like a hickey. Tooru was holding his two packs of microwave popcorn and beaming at him.</p><p>“Hey, Iwa-chan.” He didn’t seem aware of his debauched appearance. Hajime wondered if his mother had seen Tooru’s hickey when he came into the Iwaizumi household. “Wanna watch a movie with me?” </p><p>Hajime didn’t ask about the hair or the mark. “Again, you couldn’t have texted me you were coming beforehand?”</p><p>“You’re not busy, are you?” Tooru shook the bags of popcorn, and the plastic wrapping crinkled. “Let’s watch a movie.”</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>They’d watched some new movie series about aliens that Tooru insisted was the “next big thing” despite its shitty visual effects, and Hajime had gorged himself on popcorn with too much butter and not enough salt. The movie, he thought, was trash. </p><p>(But maybe his mood had been spoiled by seeing Tooru at his door, so clearly making out with someone who wasn’t Hajime.)</p><p>It was nearly midnight, around the time when Hajime usually slept, and Tooru was still in his room. Hajime liked to get at least seven hours of sleep before a day of school and volleyball practice, but Tooru’s terrible sleeping schedule was almost contagious. </p><p>They were lying in Hajime’s bed since Tooru had abandoned the futon on the floor thirty minutes earlier. Tooru was lying next to him, taking up the entire pillow and two-thirds of the bed, but Hajime didn’t mind. His legs were stretched out carelessly, one on top of Hajime’s, and Hajime could feel the warmth even through Tooru’s sweatpants.</p><p>When Tooru spoke, his voice had taken on that dreamlike quality that Hajime heard more and more often. “Iwa-chan?”</p><p>“Hm?” Hajime’s eyelids felt heavy.</p><p>“Do you think everything really happens for a reason? I don’t think it does.”</p><p>Hajime considered his words for a moment. “Is this about what we talked about a few days ago? The last time you were in my room?”</p><p>Tooru’s voice was small, and Hajime felt like he was in a bubble with just Tooru. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it.”</p><p>“Well, I don’t know if it’s true, but it’s nice to think that everything happens for a reason. I guess it’s comforting that we have a destiny even though it’s all a result of our choices. Everything’s a result of some cause.”</p><p>“But I don’t think our choices matter. Not if you think about it.” Tooru’s gaze was on the sticker stars, which emitted a dull, neon light in the darkness of Hajime’s bedroom. “Everything will happen eventually in another time, another place. This is just one of many. It’s just things like chance and luck - not our choices - that make one universe different from another one.”</p><p>“Thinking about parallel universes again?” Hajime asked.</p><p>Tooru’s lip twitched, but his expression lacked any amusement. “Of course. You know me.”</p><p>“This is because of Todai, right?”</p><p>A pause, and then a small nod.</p><p>“Don’t tell me you’re thinking something stupid like visiting the team in Tokyo and then rejecting the offer.”</p><p>Tooru was silent.</p><p>Hajime could feel the mixture of confusion and exasperation rising in his chest. “You’ve been wanting to go to that school since forever ago. If you get the chance, I think you should go. And now you have that chance.”</p><p>“Dream schools are just meant to be dreams, Iwa-chan.”</p><p>“But you’re practically accepted already. It’s a dream within reach. Why wouldn’t you go?”</p><p>“I… I don’t know.” Tooru’s voice was low. “We could still go to the same school. It doesn’t have to be Todai. It doesn’t even have to be in Tokyo. We could stay in Miyagi.”</p><p>“You are <em> not </em>turning down the University of fucking Tokyo for me or anyone else. I’m not letting that happen.” </p><p>Tooru huffed. “You can’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.”</p><p>Hajime could feel the exasperation overpowering the confusion. “If you don’t want to go for a real reason, fine by me, but not because you’re trying to put on a brave or selfless front. You don’t need to be a hero - just be yourself.”</p><p>“Iwa-chan --”</p><p>“No, listen to me, Tooru.” His first name slipped out, but the words were already spilling out of Hajime’s mouth before he could think about it. “Don’t even spout some bullshit about trying to make me happy. You need to do whatever makes you happiest. And that’s what will make me happy, got it?”</p><p>Tooru nodded wordlessly.</p><p>Hajime hadn’t realized that he’d grown louder until the quiet settled over them. “Oikawa, just - just put yourself first, okay?”</p><p>Tooru squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, Hajime saw that his dark eyelashes were wet with tears. It startled him; Tooru wasn’t one to cry unless he’d been bottling something in. He hadn’t cried when they lost to Shiratorizawa for the first time or when he’d first injured his knee. It occurred to Hajime that for both times, they’d been surrounded by other players and audience members - Tooru was too proud to cry in front of people he didn’t know.</p><p>Hajime’s heart ached thinking about how much Tooru had probably worried about this, alone, before coming to talk to him. </p><p>Tooru’s voice trembled slightly. “But don’t you think I’m being selfish?”</p><p>“What? Selfish? How?”</p><p>Tooru shifted onto his side and brought his knees up to his chest. “Leaving you here. Leaving my parents and everyone. It’s not just about missing Hanamaki’s birthday, but more and more things are going to come up, and I’m going to be alone, and I’m… scared.”</p><p>“You won’t be alone,” Hajime said, trying to reassure him. “I’m trying to go to college in Tokyo, too, you know. I’ll be there for you even if I can’t get into Todai. And there’s nothing selfish about doing what’s best for you. You’re not hurting anyone by helping yourself.”</p><p>A tear started to escape Tooru’s eye. Hajime leaned forward to brush it away with his thumb, but Tooru wiped messily at his face before he could.</p><p>Hajime leaned back, setting his hand down. He looked away from Tooru. They sat like that, listening to the cicadas outside his window and staring at the fake stars.</p><p>Clearing his throat, Hajime broke the silence. “Oikawa, there’s no reason to regret your past or your future. Just be happy with everything you have now, okay?”</p><p>“Mm.”</p><p>Hajime scrambled to find the words that he thought would help. “Just… make the best of the universe we live in.”</p><p>When Tooru looked at him, the tears were gone, and Hajime let out an exhale of relief. Tooru’s eyes glinted with humor and what almost seemed like affection. “You know, Iwa-chan, you sounded like my grandma just now.”</p><p>He shoved Tooru so hard that they both fell off of the bed, landing gracelessly on the carpet in a tangle of limbs and blankets. With Tooru on top of him as they hit the floor, Hajime bore the brunt of the weight. But he could barely register the pain in his side as he looked at Tooru’s smiling face, just inches away from his. </p><p>From this angle, the lipstick kiss he’d noticed earlier was hidden, and Hajime could almost pretend that he had been the one to make the hickey visible on Tooru’s neck.</p><p>“Ow,” Hajime said dumbly, breaking the moment.</p><p>Tooru rolled off of him, concern and humor in his expression. “You okay, Iwa-chan?”</p><p>He missed the feeling of Tooru on top of him, and his hip bone hurt. “Yep.”</p><p>“Iwa-chan’s an idiot.” Tooru laughed and stood up, reaching his hand out to help Hajime off the ground. “Come on, let’s brush our teeth and go to sleep. You must be tired.”</p><p>Later that night, the heater turned on high and the scent of green apples in the air, Hajime didn’t regret the new bruise on his hip. Tooru casually draped his arms over Hajime's back, and the soft contact of skin against skin kept Hajime awake.</p><p>When he finally drifted to sleep, he dreamed of Tooru.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>more info: todai, or the university of tokyo, is an actual college in japan (widely considered the best in the country + super good at physics!)  keio university is another excellent college in tokyo. i did quite a bit of research to make them feel realistic in the story, but almost everything else about them is just my own thoughts.</p><p>--</p><p>i PROMISE there's going to be actual "future" iwaoi interactions soon! (side note: hanamaki is a projection of me claiming to have a mid-life crisis.) </p><p>stay tuned for future chapters, and thank you so much for reading! kudos/comments/feedback make me inexplicably happy &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. alea iacta est</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Dr. Iwa-chan,” Tooru said fondly, leaning his head onto Hajime. </p><p>They were close enough that Tooru's hair tickled Hajime's ear, their arms pressed up against each other, and Hajime noticed that Tooru smelled like deodorant and meat buns and green apples, the smell of an afternoon at Seijoh's gym and an evening at the local convenience store. </p><p>Tooru seemed to nuzzle into Hajime's shoulder. “You really promise to fix my knee, right?”</p><p>He leaned his head down until it touched Tooru's. “I promise.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>alea iacta est is latin for "the die is cast." it's a quote that signifies a decisive action, and it's said by caesar when he crossed the rubicon and declared civil war (although in this fic, it's not quite so dramatic).</p><p>hope you enjoy! :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ms. Nakamura, the librarian, waved at Hajime when he came in. “More studying?” </p><p>Hajime nodded, a sheepish smile on his face. “Unfortunately.”</p><p>Nakamura’s eyes looked down at his full bag, zipper barely keeping the binders and papers contained, and his arms full of study materials. “Fourth time here this week, Iwaizumi. You must be very focused on school and learning.”</p><p>“I guess so.” Hajime looked down at the crumpled sheets of paper he held. Not learning, but studying and memorizing and regurgitating. </p><p>Nakamura leaned forward, and Hajime knew that she was going to try to hold him in a conversation, her break from the boredom of being a library volunteer. “You know,” she said, “I always wanted one of my children to become a doctor. But medical school is certainly hard, isn’t it?” </p><p>“Well, it’s not easy,” Hajime said. He’d heard about the ambitions of her three children more times than he could count. “But I’ve managed so far.”</p><p>“That’s right, dear, that’s a good mindset to have! You know, I was never one for studying in the past. All this studying… isn’t it dreadful sometimes?”</p><p>He smiled. “Sometimes, but it’s what I signed up for.”</p><p>“Of course, of course.” She paused and bit her lip, and Hajime could feel himself stiffening at the question before she even asked it. “Now, where’s that other boy who used to come study with you? Quite tall, handsome, very charming?”</p><p>There was no question about the person to whom she was referring; she asked about him whenever she got the chance.</p><p>“Oikawa is busy,” Hajime responded. It’d been months since he’d come to the library with Tooru, but Nakamura asked every time. His reply every time was that Tooru was busy, but it was hard to justify someone being busy for months on end. “And he, uh, prefers to go to his school’s library.”</p><p>Nakamura didn’t seem to notice the forced quality that the smile on his face had taken. “What does he do again?”</p><p>“He researches physics.” </p><p>“And at Todai, no less,” she added shrewdly. Nakamura definitely knew more about Tooru than she let on. “Well, when he’s not busy there, he should come by the library some time.”</p><p>Hajime inclined his head, partly to nod and partly to get out of the conversation as quickly as he could. Nakamura liked to pry more than was comfortable for him, and her kindness was almost completely negated by her nosiness.</p><p>He set himself up at his favorite spot, the quiet hum of the heater around him, and opened his laptop up. He’d been looking at exam practice questions, and the display told him that he had over a hundred more questions to review, but he clicked out of the window.</p><p>Not completely sure what he was doing, Hajime typed <em> Oikawa Tooru </em>into the search bar. After a moment of hesitation, he hit the enter key.</p><p>The majority of the results were all from the University of Tokyo’s physics department website or their student newspaper, but as Hajime scrolled down the results page, he noticed that some were dated back a few years - articles about Aobajohsai’s Volleyball Club and its captain, different physics awards Tooru had won back in high school.</p><p>He opened up a few of them from their high school years, skimming the recaps of volleyball matches that he’d played but long forgotten about, ones against Johzenji and Karasuno and Shiratorizawa, schools and people he hadn’t thought about in years. </p><p>
  <em> Kitagawa Daiichi’s Oikawa Tooru Awarded Best Setter.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Miyagi Prefecture Inter-High Match Recaps.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Japan’s Athlete of the Week: Volleyball Player Oikawa Tooru. </em>
</p><p>He paused at that article. The photo featured in the last one was a well-lit but candid shot of Tooru holding up the volleyball in one hand, pointing at the opposite team before a serve in the middle of a game. He had a competitive glint in his eyes. Everything from the beads of perspiration gathering at his brow to the hard twist of his mouth was familiar to Hajime, even after all these years. He missed it.</p><p>Hajime swallowed roughly and continued scanning the results page.</p><p><em> Seijoh Loses Ticket to Volleyball National Tournament. </em> </p><p>
  <em> Underdogs Karasuno Against Aobajohsai and Shiratorizawa in Massive Upset. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Aobajohsai’s Setter Oikawa Tooru Commits to Todai. </em>
</p><p>The memories flooded back to him like an opened dam. Endless practices with his Seijoh teammates. The final back-and-forth rally for the match point against Karasuno during his last high school match. Tooru trying not to cry as he thanked the team in the gym after they lost. Tooru on crutches for the next week because his knee gave out. Tooru in a graduation cap and gown, jewel-toned cords around his neck for all the honors he received while at Seijoh. </p><p>Tooru, Tooru, Tooru.</p><p>Hajime was tempted to close his laptop, but he felt compelled to see his odd curiosity through. If he went so far as to look up his friend - were they friends? - online, then he was going to be thorough.</p><p>
  <em> University of Tokyo Physics Department Faculty Page. </em>
</p><p>He opened the faculty’s About page, scrolling until he found Tooru’s name. </p><p>
  <em> Oikawa Tooru is a PhD candidate and lecturer in theoretical physics. His research interests include the multiverse, astrophysics, and quantum mechanics. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> B.S. in Physics, University of Tokyo.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> M.S. in Physics, University of Tokyo. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> List of publications. </em>
</p><p>The description was short, much shorter than the introductions given to professors, yet it still managed to contain information about Tooru that was unknown to Hajime. It was odd to him that a complete stranger viewing the website online knew more about Tooru’s recent life than Hajime did. When did they drift so far apart?</p><p>He hadn’t realized that Tooru’s teenage obsession with aliens and parallel universes had borne fruit; Tooru certainly hadn’t told him what his focus in physics was, and Hajime had never thought to ask. He’d told Tooru himself that he was planning to specialize in orthopedic surgery, a while before Tooru had landed the permanent lecturer position. Their conversation had gone so poorly that Hajime could see why Tooru hadn’t told him anything about his own life since then.</p><p>Hajime was tempted to open Tooru’s social media profile pages to see all the selfies and group photos he’d posted - just to take a look - but the nagging question of <em> when did they drift so far apart? </em>still tugged at him. He ground his teeth.</p><p>Shaking his head, Hajime closed all the tabs and pulled up his practice questions exam portal. He stayed in the library until he couldn’t keep his eyes open, feeling frustrated and unproductive and exhausted, head full of possibilities and parallel universes.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Hey, Iwa-chan?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“After we graduate, we should live together.”</p><p>“Us? Here in Tokyo?”</p><p>“Yeah, somewhere next to my volleyball court and your university. It would be perfect.”</p><p>“Why together?”</p><p>“You know how much I hate the thought of living alone. And besides, who else would I live with?”</p><p>“Well, won’t your girlfriend be mad?”</p><p>“I can tell she’s going to break up with me soon, anyway. No big deal.”</p><p>“Tch. You’re trash.”</p><p>“Trash that you want to live with!”</p><p>“I don’t know. It sounds like a big commitment, Oikawa.”</p><p>“It’d be perfect! You’ll do medical school and I’ll play in the league. You’ll cook and you’ll do dishes and we can share rent. Movie night can be every night. We can adopt a cat!”</p><p>“I haven’t been accepted anywhere yet. And why the hell would I be doing all the house chores?”</p><p>“You’ll get into med school, I know you will. So what do you say, Iwa-chan? Promise we’ll live together after we graduate college.”</p><p>“Ugh. Do we have to link pinkies?”</p><p>“It’s part of the magic, Iwa-chan. Promise?”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, Shittykawa. I promise.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Hanamaki’s twenty-sixth birthday celebration took place at a local sushi restaurant near the hospital, a high-end place that Matsukawa had apparently discovered through a friend of a friend.</p><p>As Hajime stepped out of his Uber and ducked into the bar, he observed that it was relatively quiet for a Friday night. The lights were dimmed inside, and the soft buzz of customers chattering could barely be heard from the street. It was a classy place, something that Hanamaki wouldn’t have chosen on his own. A sushi restaurant was certainly an upgrade from the previous birthdays Hanamaki had spent drunk at breweries and tap houses.</p><p>Through white painted letters on the window and past a few waiters and tables, Hajime could see Hanamaki and Matsukawa sitting side by side at a booth. They were facing towards Hajime and engaged in conversation, Hanamaki’s hands moving rapidly as Matsukawa nodded and sipped his water. Across from them was Tooru - Hajime could tell just from the hair and the shape of his back. </p><p>He reached into his pocket to check that his present for Hanamaki was still there, a lump in the shape of a bottle, encased in gift wrapping paper and scotch tape. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.</p><p>“Welcome to Kuroshio Sushi,” said the tall host behind a long counter of black marble. His appearance was tidier than how Hajime looked, fresh out of the hospital changing room with nothing more than his wrinkled casual attire and the cheap cologne gifted to him by his mom back in college. The maître d' looked him up and down, and Hajime suddenly missed the bars that Hanamaki used to like. “Are you waiting on someone, or… ?”</p><p>“I’m here for, uh, Hanamaki?” Hajime said. “There should be three others here already.”</p><p>The maître d' snapped his fingers in understanding, grabbed a menu, and beckoned Hajime further into the restaurant. “Follow me, sir.”</p><p>Hanamaki’s eyes lit up as he spotted Hajime winding through a maze of tables, trying to follow the host. “Hey, Iwaizumi! Really glad you could make it.”</p><p>“Hey,” he replied. “Happy birthday, Makki.” </p><p>The maître d' set down the menu at the only open seat, the one across from Matsukawa and next to Tooru. “What would you like to drink, sir? We have a number of wines that can be sampled, as well as an assortment of locally brewed craft beers. I can make some recommendations on which ones complement the taste of sushi on the palate.”</p><p>“Just water, please,” Hajime said with a forced smile. “Thank you.”</p><p>“Get him a beer, too!” Hanamaki added. “Same one as I have. Everything’s on me tonight.”</p><p>Hajime opened his mouth to protest, but Matsukawa silenced him with a swift kick in the shin.</p><p>As the host left, Hajime sat down in the seat beside Tooru and studiously avoided his gaze. He was suddenly aware that he hadn’t shaved in a day or two, and the dark circles under his eyes were intense. “Just us four?”</p><p>“All of Makki’s college friends are back in Miyagi, and he wanted some nostalgic bullshit so he wouldn’t feel like he’s getting old,” Matsukawa said dryly. “Plus, I thought it’d be better if it was close-knit, so just us.”</p><p>Tooru nodded beside Hajime. “It’s been a while since we all met up, hasn’t it?”</p><p>“Way, way too long,” Hanamaki agreed. “My birthday’s a good excuse to catch up, though.”</p><p>A silence fell over them, one that was far, far too awkward and tense for a friend’s birthday celebration. Hajime was all too aware of Tooru shifting next to him, with two fingers swirling his straw in some fruity cocktail that definitely did not go with sushi. </p><p>He’d been trying hard not to think about Tooru in the few days leading up to Hanamaki’s birthday, especially since that time he did “research” that felt much too stalkerish for his own comfort in the library. Instead, Hajime had thrown himself into medical school exams and preparations for moving from his current apartment to the one near his new hospital. The distractions had worked before the meet-up, but they didn’t lessen the tension Hajime felt during the actual situation.</p><p>Hajime could see Matsukawa’s eyes darting between him and Tooru, trying to assess their expressions and body language. The sound of ice clinking against glass in Tooru’s drink felt loud at the quiet table.</p><p>Thankfully, Hanamaki broke the silence when he started complaining about how his parents were trying to set him up on blind dates with their younger coworkers. Tooru relaxed, but Hajime saw Matsukawa stiffen noticeably.</p><p>The familiar banter started again - quips from Matsukawa, complaints from Hanamaki, jokes from Tooru, and some side commentary from Hajime, who busied himself with looking over the menu. He could not help but tense when Tooru moved next to him, Tooru whom he hadn’t seen in what felt like ages, Tooru who was trying to act like everything was normal. Just friends meeting up for a long-awaited get-together. </p><p>Hajime ordered when the waiter came to their table, something inexpensive so he wasn’t making too much of a dent in Makki’s wallet. </p><p>The interruption paused their conversation. “This place is nice,” Hajime remarked in an attempt to lessen the awkwardness, taking in the tasteful decorations and ambient music. “Not exactly what I expected, but really nice.” </p><p>“Mattsun thought we should go somewhere nice now that I’m a respectable adult,” Hanamaki said with a sigh. </p><p>Matsukawa laughed. “Most respectable adults actually pay for their share of the rent.”</p><p>“The rent?” Tooru leaned forward, interested. “Are you living together?”</p><p>“Yeah. He moved in this past week, and it’s been awful,” Matsukawa said, but he was smiling. “Terrible for my productivity.”</p><p>“It must be nice not living alone,” Tooru said. “I’ve haven’t had a roommate since college.”</p><p>Normally - or back a few years ago, when things could be called normal - Tooru would have grabbed onto Hajime’s arm, the way he did before the knee surgery and the falling out and the medical exams and the physics awards, and said something about how he and Iwa-chan should live together. Hajime would have replied with some brusque dissent but continued to let Tooru hang onto him, and Matsukawa would give them a knowing look. </p><p>Hajime recalled their agreement made in their last year of college, him at Keio and Tooru at Todai, the broken promise to live together when they graduated. He winced and took a sip of his beer. </p><p>Before he could dwell on it, the food arrived - plates of glistening sashimi and neat rows of inari and more sushi than Hajime had seen in his life. </p><p>“We’re feasting tonight, boys,” Hanamaki said with a grin. “Matsukawa even baked a cake for us back at the apartment.” </p><p>Tooru was taking a picture of the food, trying to get the entire spread to fit into one frame. So he still took pictures of his meals like a maniacal food journalist, Hajime thought. “What kind of cake?”</p><p>“Sponge cake with fruit,” Matsukawa said. “Iwaizumi said you don’t like chocolate.”</p><p>Tooru’s finger hesitated over the phone screen. “You two have been talking recently?”</p><p>“We texted about today,” Hajime said. He could see Matsukawa leaning back in the booth seat, eyes flicking warily between them.</p><p>“Oh.” Tooru tucked his phone back into his pocket.</p><p>Hanamaki slammed a hand down on the table, jostling the dishes, and the awkwardness was broken. He lifted his beer glass. “Let’s toast to me. I’ve been waiting for this moment all year.”</p><p>“Really?” Hajime asked dryly. “Hanamaki, waiting to be <em> old </em>?”</p><p>“I thought you dreaded your birthday, Makki,” Tooru agreed, raising his own drink. “Ready to join me and Iwa-chan as twenty-six year olds? Little Mattsun will have to wait another couple of months to be part of the club.”</p><p>The familiar <em> Iwa-chan </em> made Hajime’s skin prickle. He picked up his glass of beer after some hesitation, propping his elbow up on the table.</p><p>“I can’t wait,” Matsukawa deadpanned.</p><p>“Let’s just toast to me already, okay?” Hanamaki said impatiently.</p><p>“He’s definitely going to get drunk and emotional later tonight.” Matsukawa shook his head, but there was fondness in his voice as he followed their lead. “To Makki’s birthday,” he toasted, his eyes soft.</p><p>They echoed Matsukawa and clinked glasses. </p><p>The conversation picked up after that, updates about family and jobs. Hanamaki’s older brother was getting divorced. Tooru’s nephew was finishing up high school soon. Matsukawa’s great-aunt passed away. Hajime’s father had a benign tumor removed recently. Hanamaki was still, much to his regret, jobless. Tooru was about to become the youngest physics lecturer Todai had ever seen. Matsukawa was still working on his novel, which he kept stubbornly private.</p><p>“We talked about Iwaizumi at that cafe a while back,” Matsukawa said, gesturing to himself, Hanamaki, and Hajime. “He said he’s going to residency at that hospital near Todai.”</p><p>“Hoshino Memorial Hospital,” Hajime said.</p><p>Tooru put down his chopsticks and said nothing. </p><p>“What are you specializing in again?” Hanamaki set down his beer, which was halfway empty. Matsukawa discreetly inched it towards his side of the table, away from Hanamaki’s open hand.</p><p>“Orthopedic surgery,” Hajime said. He could feel Tooru’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t read the expression on his face. “I got lucky and matched into my top choice.”</p><p>“Not luck,” Matsukawa chided, still slowly moving Hanamaki’s drink towards himself. “It’s your own hard work, Iwaizumi. You’ve been working your ass off for the past decade. Our birthday boy could learn a thing or two.”</p><p>“Leave me alone, Mattsun,” Hanamaki said, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol. </p><p>“It’s the truth.”</p><p>“I’m never speaking to you again.”</p><p>“We <em> live </em>together, idiot.”</p><p>Hanamaki gave Matsukawa a light shove and reached across the table for his drink. “Iwaizumi’s going to be an orthopedic surgeon, and I can’t even get a damn job,” he wailed. He took a large swig of his beer.</p><p>Tooru still said nothing in response, simply nodding and returning his attention to his food. Hajime chewed his food mechanically and wished that he had the courage to Tooru in the eyes. Instead, he settled for making stilted conversation as they skirted around the topic of bygone friendships and merciless time.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Why’d you come here, Iwa-chan?” </p><p>They were sitting on a bench in the middle of Todai’s campus, watching students chatter as they rushed by. Tooru’s shoulders were slumped. He looked more tired than when Hajime had last visited him a few months before.</p><p>“I thought I’d come check up on you if you weren’t busy doing TA duties,” Hajime said. “I was in the area, visiting another hospital.”</p><p>Hajime’s eyes roamed over Tooru’s face, taking in the small wrinkles he had, the new glasses frames, the ironed button down he wore.</p><p>“Hoshino Memorial Hospital, you mean?”</p><p>“That’s right.” Hajime leaned back. “The one a few minutes from here.”</p><p>“And the hospital that I had my knee surgery at,” Tooru said. “Remember? During my last year playing for Todai’s volleyball team.”</p><p>“I remember.”</p><p>“Are you still planning to specialize in orthopedic surgery?”</p><p>“Yeah, I am.” Hajime looked down at Tooru’s knee, and he knew that Tooru saw the motion. “I want to help people with sports injuries. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, I think.”</p><p>“Why are you really here, Iwa-chan?” Tooru’s voice was quiet. “To rub it in? Hoshino and orthopedic surgery - you could have gone anywhere and done anything, and you chose to spend it at the place that I hate the most?”</p><p>“I’m not doing it to rub anything in. I just want to help people who find themselves in your position. I don’t want to have to be helpless anywhere, not like I was before.”</p><p>Tooru brushed off Hajime’s hand. “You have everything, and I’ve got - I’ve got practically nothing.”</p><p>“That’s not true. You could be a professor or a researcher or whatever you wanted.”</p><p>“They’re not going to offer me a lecturer position here,” Tooru said with a cold laugh. “They’ve never offered it to someone as young as I am. I’m going to get booted out as soon as I wrap up my thesis, and I’ll be in huge debt, and I don’t know what to do.”</p><p>“You have Yoshino,” Hajime said, referring to Tooru’s girlfriend. His heart hurt as he spoke. “She can help you out. And you have me.”</p><p>“Yoshino broke up with me,” Tooru said bitterly.</p><p>Hajime couldn’t help the happiness that he felt. He pushed aside the words that came to mind, <em> I’d never break up with you </em>. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said truthfully. He was always sorry for Tooru when his relationships failed, but he was simultaneously happy for his own perverse, selfish greed.</p><p>Tooru stood up then, leaving Hajime seated on the creaky bench. “Iwa-chan,” he said. “I really appreciate everything you’re trying to do for me, but I’d - I’d - I’d appreciate if you didn’t come visit me here again.”</p><p>“What?” Hajime rose and tried to grab Tooru’s arm. Tooru moved aside. “Hold on, Oikawa, this is coming out of nowhere.”</p><p>“I’ve got a meeting to get to,” Tooru muttered. “I have to go.”</p><p>“Wait, you’re not making any sense-” </p><p>“I’ll see you later, Iwa-ch - Iwaizumi.”</p><p>Hajime didn’t chase after the black coat and brown hair as they receded into the distance. He slumped back onto the bench and buried his face in his hands.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>A few minutes after Kuroshio Sushi closed for the night, the group of four crowded into Matsukawa’s car - Matsukawa at the wheel, Hanamaki in shotgun, and Hajime and Tooru huddled in the back of the Mini Cooper.</p><p>“Your car,” Hajime grumbled, “is too small to even hold four people.” He tried not to look at Tooru, who was only a foot away.</p><p>“Don’t insult Minnie,” Matsukawa laughed as he drove. “Her size gives her a certain charm. A certain <em> je ne sais quoi </em>, if you will.”</p><p>“I’m surrounded by pretentious asses,” Hanamaki said. His words slurred together as he leaned back in his chair.</p><p>“We’re going back to your place for cake and drinks now, right?” Tooru asked. He was a little tipsy, too; Hajime could tell by the dust of pink on his cheeks and the slightly glazed quality of his eyes.</p><p>“Yep, back home,” Hanamaki confirmed. “Get ready for the best fucking cake you’ve ever eaten.”</p><p>Hajime marveled for a moment at how casually Hanamaki said the word “home” in reference to Matsukawa’s apartment. He’d wanted that kind of easy, domestic life with Oikawa at one point, but he couldn’t even let himself imagine it now. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Matsukawa and Hanamaki didn’t own a large apartment, and their furniture was an assortment of thrift store finds and random IKEA items. The two were currently in their kitchen preparing the cake and drinks, leaving Hajime alone in the living room with Tooru. He could hear loud noises from the kitchen, plates and silverware clanking around, but he and Tooru were quiet.</p><p>Tooru was sitting cross-legged at the foot of the couch, hugging a pillow to his chest the way he was in an unfamiliar place and wanted to feel secure. Hajime was on the opposite side of the scratched-up coffee table that took up half of the living room’s area, sitting on a white stool that was too small for him. </p><p>“Iwa-chan,” Tooru said suddenly. “I’ve missed talking to you these past few months.”</p><p>Hajime momentarily forgot how to speak. </p><p>“I know it’s mostly my fault that we don’t stay in touch as much anymore in general,” Tooru continued, “but talking to Mattsun recently has made me realize how much I miss you guys. All of you.”</p><p>“Right,” Hajime said dumbly. “Yeah.” He wanted to say <em> I’ve missed talking to you, more than you know, </em> but his mouth wouldn’t form the words.</p><p>“And I’m really glad that we could talk today. I’ve missed celebrating birthdays, too.”</p><p>Hajime nodded wordlessly.</p><p>“Are you still angry about that time?” Tooru looked down. “About what I said a few months ago that time you came to see me at Todai?”</p><p>“I’ve never been angry with you,” Hajime said.</p><p>Tooru looked up and opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment, Hanamaki burst into the room. “Cake!” He announced, shoving the plate forward. “Courtesy of our very own Chef Matsukawa.”</p><p>Tooru set the pillow aside and took out his phone. “Picture time,” he said, smiling. “Smile for the camera, Makki-chan.”</p><p>“You sound like my <em> mom </em>, oh my god. No pictures.” </p><p>Tooru ignored him and took several pictures.</p><p>Matsukawa came out from the kitchen behind Hanamaki, holding the bottle of wine Hajime had gifted Hanamaki, a couple of forks, and a knife. He slung an arm over Hanamaki’s shoulder with the arm holding the bottle.</p><p>“Get in the picture, Iwa-chan!” Tooru said. </p><p>“Yeah, fine.” Hajime got up and stood next to Hanamaki, trying to best fit himself in the space left. He smiled as Tooru snapped a photo.</p><p>“You too, Oikawa,” Matsukawa insisted. “Set up the camera timer and join in. It’ll be all four of us.”</p><p>“My face hurts from smiling, and my arms hurt from holding up the cake,” Hanamaki muttered under his breath. “I <em> hate </em> pictures.”</p><p>“No complaining, birthday boy,” Hajime said, laughing. </p><p>Tooru scrambled up from his seat on the couch towards Matsukawa, on the opposite side from Hajime, and held up a peace sign. “Ten seconds before the picture!” he called as the phone flashed, counting down the seconds.</p><p>Later, when Tooru created a group chat named “seijoh star squad” and texted the picture to them, Hajime discreetly saved it and made it his phone’s home background. He told himself that it was to remember Hanamaki’s birthday - it definitely wasn’t because of Tooru’s big smile and cheesy peace sign.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“What do you want to do after high school, Iwa-chan?” Tooru asked.</p><p>They were sitting on the bench outside of the convenience store, eating meat buns and watching the sun set. According to Tooru, meat buns and milk bread was the best way to end a day after a long volleyball practice.</p><p>“Do you mean in college, or do you mean a job?” Hajime took a bite of the meat bun and tried to memorize how he felt at that moment. Being in his final year of high school meant that they’d have fewer and fewer of these moments, especially since both of them had decided to go to Tokyo for college.</p><p>“A job,” Tooru replied. “I guess I mean after college.”</p><p>They both sat in silence, trying to imagine what life would be like after college. Hajime couldn’t even imagine life after high school. “I guess,” he said slowly, “I want to be a doctor.”</p><p>Tooru turned to look at him with surprise. “Why?”</p><p>“So I can help people when they’re injured instead of standing on the sidelines. I’ll be able to <em> do </em>something.” He glanced down at Tooru’s knee, only a few inches away from his own. “And it’s a stable field, so I’ll find a job as long as I do my best. My parents want me to pursue it, too.”</p><p>“It’s a long process to be a doctor.”</p><p>“About the same amount of time that we’ve been playing volleyball,” Hajime said. “Which is what you want to do, right? Be a professional like that guy who came back to visit Seijoh?”</p><p>“Hayashi Masaru.” Tooru nodded. “The stony guy who never gets injured and lives in Australia.”</p><p>“Okay, maybe you won’t be like him, but you’ll both be professional setters. That’s impressive.”</p><p>“You think I can do it?” Tooru’s voice held a quality of uncertainty that Hajime wasn’t used to hearing. “Go pro?”</p><p>“Of course you can,” Hajime said.</p><p>“What about my knee?”</p><p>Hajime nudged Tooru to get him to keep on eating his meat bun. “When I’m a doctor, I’ll fix your knee. You’ll never have to worry about it again, just like that Hayashi guy. Then you can go to the Olympics and win a gold medal for Japan and I can tell all my doctor friends that I know an Olympic champion. Got it?”</p><p>Tooru let out a loud peal of laughter. “Okay, Iwa-chan.”</p><p>“Call me Dr. Iwaizumi,” Hajime said, trying and failing to make his expression serious. </p><p>“Dr. Iwa-chan,” Tooru said fondly, leaning his head onto Hajime. </p><p>They were close enough that Tooru's hair tickled Hajime's ear, their arms pressed up against each other, and Hajime noticed that Tooru smelled like deodorant and meat buns and green apples, the smell of an afternoon at Seijoh's gym and an evening at the local convenience store. </p><p>Tooru seemed to nuzzle into Hajime's shoulder. “You really promise to fix my knee, right?”</p><p>He leaned his head down until it touched Tooru's. “I promise.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Hajime hated the silence of the surgical waiting room.</p><p>All the things he’d loved about the hospital when he came as a volunteer pre-med student, he now hated - the sterile smell of disinfectant, the fake friendliness of the nurses and receptionists, the cold explanations of the doctor in charge of Tooru’s surgery. He hated the hours spent in uncertainty, focusing on the clock ticking down while completely unaware of what was happening in the operating room. He hated how desperate he felt praying that Tooru would be okay, and he hated how unprepared he was in the face of the unimaginable chance that something had gone wrong.</p><p>Hajime thought that being an impersonal hospital scribe with no awareness of the suffering of patients and their family parents was far preferable to the anguish he felt waiting for Tooru’s surgery to be over. He wondered briefly if he’d chosen the right career path.</p><p>They hadn’t let Hajime see Tooru before the surgery. He wasn’t a family member, so he was relegated to the waiting room until Tooru emerged from surgery. Tooru’s family was still driving to Tokyo from their home in Miyagi, so it was just Hajime in the waiting room.</p><p>“Our doctors will do their best,” the nurse had told him. Hajime noticed that she said nothing about how the surgery would turn out; the hospital couldn’t promise anyone would have a 100% successful operation.</p><p>He wasn’t sure about all the details on Tooru’s surgery, just that it was an emergency and Tooru’s knee was almost irreparably injured. Apparently, Tooru’s parents had been in tears when they told the Iwaizumi family, which was how Hajime had found out. They’d given their consent to the surgery and were driving over to Tokyo as they spoke.</p><p>Hajime recalled the conversation he’d had with his parents over the phone before he came to the hospital. “Oikawa’s mother said the doctor told her that the pain must have been unbearable,” his mom had said, her voice hushed. “He didn’t want anyone to know that it hurt because he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to play volleyball again.”</p><p>“Well, it doesn’t look like he’ll be able to go pro like he wanted.” Hajime’s father had been muffled.</p><p>His mother had hissed, “not in front of Hajime, you know how he gets about Oikawa” before uncovering the microphone and reassuring him that “we don’t know for sure, dear, don’t worry just yet.”</p><p>“What are the odds of him playing volleyball again?” Hajime had asked. His voice, to his surprise, sounded steady despite the turmoil he felt.</p><p>Hajime’s mother had sighed. “Near zero, honey. He’ll be doing physical therapy for a long time, assuming the surgery goes well. By then, his volleyball career will probably be over.”</p><p>“Will the surgery go well? He’ll be fine, right?”</p><p>She had been silent, not answering his question. “Why don’t you go to the hospital and wait for his family to show up, Hajime? You’re all Oikawa has in Tokyo right now.”</p><p>So he was at the hospital next to Todai now, some big facility called the Hoshino Memorial Hospital, his head aching and eyes bloodshot. He’d been awake all night since he had heard the news from his parents of Tooru collapsing on his right knee during a late afternoon volleyball practice. Hajime had taken the train over to the hospital, about a half hour from his dorm at Keio.</p><p>Just a week prior, he and Tooru had promised each other that they would live together post-graduation. Tooru would play volleyball; Hajime would study medicine. The dream had shattered already.</p><p>Hajime ground his teeth. Tooru’s knee must have been hurting at the time he’d brought up living together that one time, right? Had Tooru said anything, made any indication that he was in pain? Had he hidden it, or had Hajime simply not noticed? What would happen next?</p><p>He found himself thinking about Tooru and his parallel universes, wondering what Tooru was thinking as the anesthesia hit, how'd he felt when his knee completely gave out during the match. Tooru had probably thought about parallel universes in which his knee wasn't as injured, or it had been injured but had managed to heal up, or his knee had been completely fine to begin with. And for every positive possibility Hajime considered, his mind flickered to its negative counterpart - parallel universes in which Tooru had his knee utterly destroyed by this, Tooru never playing volleyball professionally, Tooru losing his dream.</p><p>Except that awful, unimaginable universe wasn't even parallel - it was the reality.</p><p>Hajime felt suffocated and helpless. His leg was bouncing up and down out of anxiety, rattling the cheap hospital chair, as he tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest. He was no doctor yet, and he was completely unable to do anything for him when Tooru needed it the most.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Hajime got up from his seat as quietly as he could, trying not to disturb the two others in the small living room. Hanamaki was passed out on the sofa, his mouth open as he breathed softly and occasionally murmured something unintelligible. Next to Hanamaki, Tooru was sitting on the wooden floor with his back leaned against the couch. </p><p>Against his better judgment, Hajime paused and crouched in front of Tooru. He brushed a lock of Tooru’s hair away from his forehead, then stood to get a throw blanket from the couch. Hajime gently laid the blanket down on Tooru. </p><p>The alcohol made him bold, and before he could think about the implications of his actions, Hajime leaned in to brush his lips against Tooru’s forehead. It was a short kiss, barely a kiss at all - only a few milliseconds worth of contact between them, and it wasn’t even a kiss anywhere remotely romantic - but it still made Hajime’s heart feel like it was exploding out of his chest.</p><p>He felt giddy for a short moment before the shame of that small, likely insignificant action fell full force on him. Did friends platonically kiss each other’s foreheads? While they were sleeping? </p><p>Hajime wasn’t sure. He drew back with a start; his lips felt like they were on fire where they had touched Tooru.</p><p>As he carefully shuffled out of the living room, Hajime did his best not to let his gaze linger on Tooru’s sleeping face. He glanced up at the clock, which told him that it was just past three in the morning.</p><p>Hajime found Matsukawa in the kitchen, humming as he cleaned. The kitchen was even smaller than the living room, cramped to the point that the refrigerator door was unable to fully open, and Matsukawa seemed to be able to access all points of the kitchen just by rotating in one place.</p><p>He knocked on the counter. “Hey, Mattsun.”</p><p>“Oh, Iwaizumi,” Matsukawa said, looking up and giving him an easy grin. “Not passed out like them yet?”</p><p>“Not yet.” Iwaizumi leaned against the granite. “I have a question, and I hope I’m not… out of line.”</p><p>Matsukawa had been cleaning the dishes, but he stilled at Hajime’s words. “Go on.”</p><p>“Are you and Makki…” Hajime struggled to find the words to say to his longtime friend. He looked behind him, back into the living room where Hanamaki and Tooru slept. “Together?”</p><p>He set the plate down in the sink with a clatter. “Are you drunk, Iwaizumi?”</p><p>“You already know I’m not.” Hajime had an unusually high tolerance for alcohol, something that Matsukawa and the rest had been familiar with back when they had drinking contests in college. He tried not to think about his kiss on Tooru’s forehead. If he had been sober then, he couldn’t blame his actions on alcohol loosening his inhibitions. “Okay, maybe a little bit.”</p><p>Matsukawa stared down at the drain in the sink.</p><p>“You don’t have to answer the question, you know,” Hajime said, voice soft. “I wasn’t trying to pry.”</p><p>“Hanamaki and I aren’t dating.”</p><p>“Oh. I’m… I’m sorry for assuming.”</p><p>Matsukawa smiled, but he looked wistful. “What made you think we’re together?”</p><p>“Just… how you two talk about each other. And you’re living together. You’re helping him out when he needs it the most.”</p><p>He nodded absently. “Well, you’re not completely off the mark. I’ve asked him multiple times to go out with me.”</p><p>Hajime again glanced back at Hanamaki, his pink-brown hair against the armrest of the couch. “He said no?”</p><p>“He’s not sure if he feels the same way about me, and he wants to settle down with his life before he really thinks about it and the possibilities.” Matsukawa sighed and threw down the sponge he’d been holding. “Who am I to deny him that? I can’t say anything, not when his parents are so insistent that he marries a nice girl from Tokyo.”</p><p>It was perhaps the most insight that Hajime had gotten into his friend’s thoughts since college. “But you’re roommates.”</p><p>“Yeah. I got lucky with this whole living-together situation.”</p><p>Hajime wondered if he should stop prying, but his curiosity won over his reticence and politeness. “Do his parents know? Do yours?”</p><p>“They don’t know about his joblessness or me, if that’s what you mean. My parents know I’m gay. That’s why I got kicked out of my house.”</p><p>“Is that the reason Hanamaki is so hesitant, too?”</p><p>“Maybe, I don’t know. But I’m lucky I get to be with him, even if it’s not an ideal situation.”</p><p>“I don’t know if it's lucky for you,” Hajime said. He looked at Tooru, the familiar brown hair that was slightly longer than the last time they’d met, the soft curve of his mouth. “You get to help him, but isn’t it hard to see him around your apartment? Won’t it be harder for you when he leaves?”</p><p>Matsukawa’s eyes narrowed at Hajime, who suddenly felt like he was being scrutinized. “I’ll take what I can get instead of distancing myself,” Matsukawa said. “It might hurt when he leaves, but I don’t care. If he doesn’t like me back, so be it. I can’t force him to reciprocate my feelings.”</p><p>“So be it?” Hajime echoed.</p><p>“Iwaizumi,” he said. “You and Oikawa aren’t too different from me and Hanamaki, you know. It’s just that we handle our emotions differently. There’s no need to be scared.”</p><p>Hajime shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “It’s not me being scared for myself. I’m worried for him.”</p><p>Matsukawa was silent for a long time. Finally, he resumed his dishwashing. “I can’t help you with that when I don’t even know what I’m doing myself, but for the love of God, talk to Oikawa later. You two are killing me.”</p><p>“I’m trying to talk to him.”</p><p>“Try a little harder. I know I sound like a nag all the time, but I just don’t want either of you to be alone.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t be alone, even without Oikawa,” Hajime said. It felt like a lie.</p><p>Matsukawa laughed humorlessly, turning back to the pile of dirty dishes. “Right. By the way, please don’t tell Hanamaki what we’ve talked about today.”</p><p>“I won’t,” Hajime promised. “Just - does Oikawa know about all this, too?”</p><p>Matsukawa shifted his weight onto his other foot. “He knows a little, but not more than you do.”</p><p>Hajime hesitated, then shuffled himself into the space by Matsukawa. “I’ll help with the dishes before I go. As thanks.”</p><p>“Thanks for what?”</p><p>“Planning today for Hanamaki,” Hajime said, but both of them knew he was referring to everything Matsukawa had said about Tooru and Hanamaki. As Hajime took a sponge and a bottle of dish soap, he found himself peering past the wall and kitchen counter to Tooru. “That’s all.”</p><p>If Hajime had looked up only a moment earlier, he would have noticed that Tooru was awake, breath shallow and heart pounding.</p><p>In the living room, Tooru heard the soft murmurs of conversation coming from the kitchen and the even breaths of Hanamaki sleeping beside him. He pulled the blanket higher on his shoulders, eyes wide, then gently touched his forehead with his fingers - the same place Hajime had kissed just moments earlier. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ok so i JUST posted a kagehina oneshot earlier today but i'm trying to update this fic weekly, so here it is! this one was very difficult to write for unknown reasons. i think i planned many different versions of their reunion, but this is the one that ended up happening. i hope you liked it, and look forward to the next chapter!</p><p>thank you so much for reading! feedback is always appreciated!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. eheu, fugaces labuntur anni</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tooru leaned back until he was lying on the carpet. “In Tokyo,” he said. “The big city.”</p><p>“Not like Sendai,” Hajime added, joining him on the floor. </p><p>“Right, right - Tokyo’s way bigger than Sendai. Imagine the volleyball courts.”</p><p>“Imagine college,” Hajime said.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>"eheu, fugaces anni labuntur" is a latin quote from horace's odes meaning "alas, the fleeting years slip by."</p><p>--</p><p>universities in japan begin in april, which is a minor detail for part of this chapter.<br/>hope you enjoy!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ito’s head poked into the room, her smile bright as she looked at Hajime. He’d looked up from his medical textbook at the sound of the doorknob moving.</p><p>She waved at him with the two canned coffees held in her hand and entered the room, letting the door shut behind her. “Iwaizumi,” she said, extending the end of his name as she called him. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”</p><p>Hajime put his pen onto the page to serve as a bookmark and closed the tome with a dull thud. “Hey, Ito. What is it?”</p><p>She sat down across from him, sliding the coffee towards him at the same time. He didn’t like the coffee much, but he opened the can anyway as he waited for her to speak.</p><p>Ito bit her lip. “So you’re moving hospitals soon.”</p><p>“Starting residency at a different place, yeah. I guess you could call it moving.”</p><p>“Right.” She looked down at her can of coffee, still unopened and wet with condensation. “And I don’t think you’ll be coming around our hospital here anymore, will you?”</p><p>“Probably not,” Hajime said as gently as he could. He wasn’t used to this new hesitant Ito - the Ito he’d been familiar with over the past few months had been loud and playful and unabashed. She was a little like Tooru, now that he thought about it; maybe that was why he’d been comfortable with her so quickly.</p><p>Ito nodded resolutely, like she was making her mind up about something. “I was wondering,” she said, “if I could buy you dinner sometime.”</p><p>Hajime blinked. “Just us two?”</p><p>“Just us two,” she confirmed. She was looking straight at him, gaze steady. He noticed that she’d pinned up her hair today, and her eyes were a little brighter or more defined than usual. “As a date.”</p><p>Different from Tooru, Hajime thought to himself. Tooru was much more wishy-washy, the kind of person to beat around the bush for as long as he could, or at least until Hajime finally squeezed the truth out of him.</p><p>“Ah,” Hajime said, mostly to break the awkward silence.</p><p>Ito bit her lip again, and Hajime was afraid that his face was betraying the emotion of utter confusion that he felt on the inside. </p><p>“Don’t feel pressured to say yes,” she said hurriedly. “I do like you - a lot - but I know that it might be a little soon.”</p><p>“A little soon?” Hajime moved the textbook aside and took another sip of his sugary coffee. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“Well,” Ito started, looking embarrassed for the first time in their conversation. “You know, since you and your girlfriend broke up. I thought I might have a chance if you were single.”</p><p>“Since my girlfriend and I broke up,” Hajime echoed, his tone bewildered. </p><p>He hadn’t had a girlfriend since his second year of medical school, nearly two years ago. It had been short-lived and mostly one-sided, as his heart had still been in turmoil since he’d realized his feelings for Tooru. Since that disastrous relationship, he hadn’t tried to date anyone, claiming he was busy with med school.</p><p>Ito gasped. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t - I just assumed - I didn’t - I’m <em> so </em>sorry, I hope I didn’t come off as insensitive or anything.”</p><p>“What made you think I’d broken up with my, uh, girlfriend?”</p><p>“I just - I thought - well, you used to leave right on time in the evenings, and you never volunteered on weekends. And you looked at your phone a lot. None of that really happens anymore.” Ito was wringing her hands together on the table. “Actually, now that I think about it, it’s stupid reasoning.”</p><p>“Oh.” Tooru hadn’t texted him in ages. Was the “girlfriend” in Ito’s mind possibly Tooru?</p><p>“I didn’t know that you and her hadn’t broken up. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have asked you anything,” Ito said. She moved her hands under the table after catching Hajime glancing at them, white in the knuckles and twisting as she fidgeted.</p><p>“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said.</p><p>Ito’s eyes widened in surprise. “A boyfriend?”</p><p>“No,” he said quickly, trying not to imagine Tooru as his boyfriend. “I’m not, um, in a relationship at all right now.”</p><p>Ito relaxed visibly, her posture slackening as she leaned back in her chair. She smiled at him then, the same charming smile that she’d flashed at him when she came into the room. “Then I still have a chance.”</p><p>Hajime drank his coffee just to have something to do as he tried to come up with something to say.</p><p>“I’m off work at eight today,” Ito said, her smile softening. “If you want to go somewhere. With me.”</p><p>Hajime thought about that girlfriend from his second year of medical school - her name was Honoka, he remembered in a flash - accusing him of not really caring about her, just going through the motions. He thought about Matsukawa telling him not to be alone, to talk to Tooru. He thought about kissing Tooru on the forehead while in a state of half-drunkenness, trying to blame his lapse in judgement on the alcohol.</p><p>“Ito,” he said, his voice resigned. He could see her cheery expression fall. “I’d love to, but I don’t think we’re - well - looking for the same things. If that makes any sense.”</p><p>Ito opened her coffee and said nothing, letting him continue.</p><p>“I didn’t have a girlfriend that I broke up with.”</p><p>“Oh. I - I thought that-”</p><p>“But you’re right, I’m still hung up on someone.”</p><p>She sighed, but she was smiling. “Right. I thought as much.”</p><p>“You deserve better,” Hajime said, feeling awfully cheesy. “Someone who would put one hundred percent effort into you. I don’t think I can do that, as much as I do like you.”</p><p>Ito laughed. “I get it, Iwaizumi. You don’t need to explain yourself. Though I do appreciate the honesty.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said, hoping he didn’t come off as awkward as he thought he sounded.</p><p>“No need to be sorry, either.” </p><p>Ito was being so nice about it that Haijme felt at once relieved and also guilty. He might have felt less guilt if she had been rude about his rejection, but she was as kind as usual, taking it gracefully and without even a shred of animosity towards him. Ito was far, far too mature and good for a mess like Hajime. </p><p>His mind flickered briefly to how Tooru would react to being turned down, if that ever happened. Hajime decided that the whole problem was him comparing Ito and Tooru. As long as he compared anyone with Tooru, he might as well still be in love with him. </p><p>The door opened abruptly. “Iwaizumi,” said one of the elderly nurses who worked in their department. “Someone’s at the front desk asking to see you.”</p><p>“Me?” Hajime stood up, then looked down at Ito apologetically. She waved at him teasingly, as if to shoo him off.</p><p>“I don’t know why he didn’t just call or text you,” the nurse sighed. They left the room, and Hajime had to resist looking back to see Ito’s expression.</p><p>“Who is it?” He asked as the nurse led him down the hallway.</p><p>“Oh, I didn’t get his name,” the nurse said, her steps quick. “But he was pretty tall.”</p><p>Hajime nodded as if he knew who it was, but “pretty tall” described at least half of his friends.</p><p>“And handsome,” she added offhandedly. </p><p>Upon hearing those words, only one person came to Hajime’s mind.</p><p>“There he is.” The nurse pointed towards the front desk, where Oikawa Tooru was leaning on his elbow and chatting happily with the nurses on duty. “That handsome boy who wanted to see you.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Ever kissed someone before, Iwa-chan?”</p><p>Hajime sputtered at the question, drops of red Gatorade on the concrete. They’d been taking a break from their impromptu pick-up basketball match with some other neighborhood kids. That summer before they went to high school was as lazy and uneventful as the ones that had preceded it. “I - what?”</p><p>“That sounds like a no, then,” Tooru said. </p><p>“Well-” Hajime capped the bottle of Gatorade and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a little embarrassed by his reaction. “Okay, fine, I haven’t.”</p><p>“I knew it,” Tooru crowed, triumphant. “Who’d want to kiss you, anyway?”</p><p>“You’re one to talk,” Hajime grumbled. He didn’t want to admit to himself that he would very much like to be the one to kiss Tooru. “Most people in our grade haven’t. I’ll do it when we get to high school.”</p><p>“I guess one year is worth the wait. Seijoh <em> does </em>have a lot of pretty girls.”</p><p>“You’re trash and you don’t deserve to kiss any of them.”</p><p>“Aren’t you going to ask me?”</p><p>“Ask you what?” Hajime set down the Gatorade, and Tooru swiped it up before he could protest. Tooru uncapped it, tilted his head back, and drank straight from the bottle. Hajime tried in vain not to remember what he’d heard from Hanamaki about indirect kisses. </p><p>“If I’ve kissed anyone, Iwa-chan.”</p><p>“You can just tell me, you know.”</p><p>“No. You have to ask.”</p><p>Hajime narrowed his eyes. He could feel his face growing warmer. “Alright, have ever you kissed anyone?”</p><p>Tooru tapped his lips, and Hajime traitorously glanced down at them, taking in their forbidden beauty in just a split second  - the elegance of the cupid’s bow, supple pink swollen from biting, the curve of his smile - before his eyes flicked back to Tooru’s half-lidded, smug gaze. </p><p>“Not yet.” Tooru smiled. Hajime didn’t look down at his mouth.</p><p>“Really?” He hoped he didn’t sound relieved.</p><p>“I was thinking,” Tooru continued, rubbing his bottom lip with his index finger, “that I want my first kiss to be meaningful.”</p><p>“God, you’re so sappy.”</p><p>“Just the first one! The rest of them can be whoever, whenever.”</p><p>“Right,” Hajime said. “Still sappy.”</p><p>“I prefer to think of it as romantic. A brute like Iwa-chan wouldn’t understand, of course.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah.” He tried to keep the interest out of his voice. “So what do you mean by a romantic first kiss?”</p><p>Tooru sat down on the bench, setting down the Gatorade in between him and Hajime. He stretched out his legs. “You know, roses. Candles. Sunsets. Ambient music, maybe a serenade accompanied by guitar or piano.”</p><p>“That’s so… unrealistic.”</p><p>Tooru reached out and playfully swatted Hajime’s arm in response. “I said romantic, not realistic.”</p><p>He ignored the warmth on his arm and the sensation of Tooru’s palm on his skin. “It sounds more like a set-up for a proposal than a first kiss. You’ve spent way too long thinking about this, haven’t you?”</p><p>“It’ll be perfect, though.” </p><p>“First kisses are supposed to be, I don’t know, spur of the moment, right? Not too perfect. Like something that you can recall fondly later, but not something you’d wanna relive. Yours has way too much planning for that.”</p><p>“If you don’t plan it right, it could end badly, Iwa-chan! And my idea might be elaborate, but it’s gonna be worth it. When I find the right person, it’ll be no problem to set up all of that.”</p><p>“<em> You’re </em> going to prepare all of it,” Hajime repeated, disbelief evident in his voice. “For your own first kiss. Unbelievable.”</p><p>“I’d do anything for a lovely and deserving classmate I’ll see at Seijoh, one who makes my heart sing.” Tooru clutched at the fabric of the jersey he had on, right above his heart. “It really will be perfect. I can see it already.”</p><p>“You’re disgusting,” Hajime said, rolling his eyes. “And too broke and lazy to do that, plus you can’t play guitar or piano.”</p><p>“I know how to strum!” Tooru mimed the motion, flapping his wrist around in a poor imitation of playing guitar.</p><p>Hajime turned away to hide his laughter. “Everyone knows how to do that, and you can’t even do it right. And what about piano?”</p><p>“Blasphemy. I took piano lessons as a child, Iwa chan! I would have been a virtuoso if I’d continued, everyone knows it. My teacher begged me to stay and grace the world with my prodigious talent, but I refused, besotted by volleyball. My parents couldn’t bear the shame, so they sold my beloved grand piano and sent me to a faraway tower in the west.”</p><p>“Hey, wasn’t ‘virtuoso’ a vocab word for last unit in class? You sound like you swallowed a dictionary, and now you’re throwing up random words.”</p><p>Tooru huffed. “So rude. My vocabulary is something your puny brain can’t comprehend.” He paused for a moment, then muttered, “Yes, ‘virtuoso’ may or may not be a word from the last unit.”</p><p>“You can use all the fancy words you want, but you still can’t play piano to save your life. The piano teacher stuff is all bullshit.”</p><p>“You <em> dare </em> accuse me of -”</p><p>“You took one piano lesson and quit halfway through. Playing ‘Heart and Soul’ doesn’t exactly count as prodigious talent, Trashykawa. ”</p><p>Tooru began belting out a song, loud and horribly off-key: “Heart and soul, I fell in love with you, heart and soul, the way a fool would do, madly! Because you held me tight, and stole a kiss in the night.”</p><p>“There are <em> lyrics </em>to that song?”</p><p>Tooru ignored him and clenched his hand into a fist like a fake microphone, singing like he was alone at karaoke. “Heart and soul, I begged to be adored, lost control, and tumbled overboard, gladly! That magic night we kissed, there in the moon mist.”</p><p>“Just shut <em> up </em>, people are looking!” Hajime hissed. He shoved Tooru until Tooru mimed a mic drop, winking at a nearby man who had stopped walking his dog to stare at them.</p><p>“Let them look. With my dashing good looks and charm, I’m ready to woo everyone at Seijoh,” Tooru grinned.</p><p>“Yeah, right. Only if you keep your mouth shut.”</p><p>Tooru had an indignant look on his face as he opened his mouth to respond, but he was stopped by a bellow from the basketball court.</p><p>“Hey, Oikawa! Iwaizumi! One more minute, then we’re starting again!” One of Oikawa’s neighbors, a tall kid named Shoichi, called out to them. He was by the hoop, dribbling a basketball with increasing ferocity. “Three on three! Takata’s on your team.”</p><p>Tooru didn’t move from his seat. The topic of first kisses weighed heavily on both of them. “I’m tired of basketball. It’s so unrefined.”</p><p>“You’re the one who dragged me here to play, Trashykawa. If we’re here, let’s play. Or else they have to play two on two, which isn’t as fun for them.”</p><p>“I don’t care if they have fun or not. The ball’s not supposed to touch the ground, ever, unless you’re scoring a point.”</p><p>“They’re completely different sports, idiot. This isn’t volleyball. ”</p><p>Tooru stood up and stretched, the jersey and T-shirt beneath it riding up to expose a pale strip of skin by his waistband. “Then let’s go play volleyball, Iwa-chan! If I want to be the starting setter for Aobajohsai next year, then I’ll need to practice more.”</p><p>“You want to be in the starting line-up? As a first-year?” Hajime knew better than anyone else how good Tooru was at volleyball, but he’d seen the older Seijoh players at a high school match before, and they towered over middle schoolers like him and Tooru. “Seijoh might not be Shiratorizawa, but they’re still strong.”</p><p>“I’m going to be the starting setter,” Tooru said with finality, “and I’ll do whatever I can to get the position. Which, right now, means playing volleyball instead of basketball.”</p><p>He waved at Shoichi cheerily and dragged Hajime by the hand behind him. When they heard Shoichi call after them, Tooru broke into a run.</p><p>Hajime followed his lead until they’d made it back to Tooru’s cul-de-sac, out of breath with exertion and laughter. He didn’t let go of Tooru’s hand.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“We’re leaving in two hours,” his mother called from downstairs. “Hajime, you’ve finished packing, right?”</p><p>He was ready to go, suitcases stuffed to capacity with clothes and other necessities, crates laden with furniture and assorted knick knacks. His parents wanted to drive him to Tokyo, at least for this first time, instead of taking his suggestion to take the train. Hajime was worried that they wanted some kind of tearful goodbye once they helped him move into his dorm, and he wasn’t prepared for it. </p><p>“Yeah, I finished packing,” he answered, walking down the stairs and stopping at the kitchen. “I’m gonna go to the store, but I’ll be back soon, okay?”</p><p>She was at the counter fussing over onigiri, sheets of nori neatly laid out on the granite and stray grains of rice on her apron. “Are you driving or walking there?”</p><p>“Dad’s putting the bags in the car, so I’m walking.”</p><p>His mother looked like she wanted to protest, but he backed up out of the kitchen quickly. “I just want to take one last look at everything, Mom. I’ll be quick, I promise.”</p><p>“Stay safe!” She yelled from the kitchen as he put on his tennis shoes and opened the front door. “Look both ways before you cross the street, okay?”</p><p>“Okay, okay!” Hajime called back. He tried not to think about how this might be the last time in a while that he left his house on a casual errand, his mother nagging at him and the scent of rice vinegar lingering in the air.</p><p>As he walked down the street and passed by the playground and basketball court of his neighborhood, he thought of the concrete expanse and basketball hoop of Tooru’s neighborhood. They’d played there years and years ago, back when both of them were still at Kitagawa Daiichi and high school seemed far away. Yet now Hajime was headed to college in Tokyo, not high school a few miles away, but he didn’t feel any older or wiser.</p><p>Back in middle school, the basketball games in Tooru's neighborhood inevitably ended with Tooru wanting to play volleyball, so they’d make the long trek to the volleyball net in Hajime’s neighborhood. They used to hold hands when they walked. </p><p>Hajime had finished packing early so he could make a trip to the store, buying some last-minute things he thought he might need. Into his basket went a pack of tea light candles and a blue lighter. He lingered in the aisle featuring plants and flowers, and after some deliberation, he selected a bouquet of red roses.</p><p>“Planning to ask someone out?” The cashier asked, smirking as she checked out his items. “Who’s the lucky girl?”</p><p>Hajime scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, just a close friend of mine.”</p><p>She whistled. “Go get ‘em, kid. Good luck with her.”</p><p>On his way back home, clutching the bouquet of roses and a plastic bag of other trinkets, Hajime started to doubt his plan. Years and years ago, Tooru had told him that he wanted his first kiss to be romantic. Hajime couldn’t remember all the details, but he’d tried his best to come close.</p><p>Of course, it wasn’t going to be a first kiss for either of them - Hajime had been told in excruciatingly explicit detail within their first month of high school that Tooru had a girlfriend (a second year named Rei-chan) who taught him how to kiss. With tongue.</p><p>Hajime’s own first kiss had taken place that year, too, only it was with a boy he’d met while on summer vacation at the beach. It was quick and awkward and messy. He couldn’t even remember the boy’s name, just the fact that he’d had brown hair almost the same color as Tooru’s and that he didn’t mind kissing boys, either.</p><p>Hajime crossed the street, nearing his neighborhood. When he entered his house, he wasted no time in running up the stairs and stuffing the roses, candles, and lighter into a separate duffel bag. </p><p>His plan, albeit a flimsy and poorly thought-out one, was to move into his dorm at Keio with his parents in the morning, then wait until the evening to - he didn’t even like thinking about it - confess that he liked Tooru. He’d have roses and candles, and maybe he’d even have some nice music playing. They would be in a secluded field at Keio when the sun set. It was as close to romantic as he could get.</p><p>He knew it was unrealistic, but romantic was basically unrealistic, right?</p><p>“Hajime, Tooru’s here!” His mother called. “We’re all leaving in about an hour, okay?”</p><p>“Okay!” Hajime was sitting on the ground. He pushed his duffel bag into a corner, hoping to hide it among the rest of the luggage he hadn’t put in the car yet.</p><p>The University of Tokyo began their first semester later than Keio University, so Tooru was staying at home in Miyagi until Todai’s move-in day. Hajime was moving in on March 29th, Tooru on April 1st. He’d insisted on tagging along in the Iwaizumi family’s cramped car to see Hajime off.</p><p>“Of course I’ll come with you!” Tooru had said, slinging an arm over Hajime’s shoulders. “I want to take a look at the place you’re spending the next few years of your life, anyway. I’ve heard Keio’s campus is pretty around this time of year.”</p><p>After futile protests that it would be a waste of time, he’d acquiesced to Tooru’s demands. He always did.</p><p>Tooru burst into the room, grinning. “Iwa-chan’s all grown up and moving out of the house!” he said in lieu of a greeting.</p><p>“You’ll be doing the same soon, too.” He gestured to the spot on the floor next to him.</p><p>Tooru came over and sat down, legs crossed. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I haven’t even started packing yet. And I don’t even have you to help me.”</p><p>“I can help you unpack once you get to Tokyo, though.”</p><p>Tooru leaned back until he was lying on the carpet. “In <em> Tokyo </em>,” he said. “The big city.”</p><p>“Not like Sendai,” Hajime added, joining him on the floor. </p><p>“Right, right - Tokyo’s way bigger than Sendai. Imagine the volleyball courts.”</p><p>“Imagine college,” Hajime said.</p><p>Tooru sighed happily, like he was dreaming. “We’re going to go around Keio’s campus this afternoon, right? Are your parents coming?”</p><p>“Nah, they’re going to come back to Miyagi after they drop us off. So you’ll have to take the train back. You got your ticket?”</p><p>“Right here,” Tooru said, patting the pocket of his pants. </p><p>“And, uh, what time’s your train leaving Tokyo?”</p><p>Tooru had been about to pull the ticket out of his pocket, but he abruptly shoved it back in upon hearing Hajime’s question. “I don’t know, some time after we’re done moving into your dorm.” </p><p>Hajime silently prayed that the train left after sunset, so he could properly carry out his plan to confess and possibly kiss Tooru. Simultaneously, there was a traitorous and cowardly part of him hoped that Tooru’s ticket was scheduled prior to dusk - for Hajime, it would be an easy way out of confronting his fears of rejection, and even worse, of ruining their friendship. He didn’t ask again what time Tooru was leaving Tokyo, worried that it would be before sunset but equally frightened that he’d leave after it.</p><p>Tooru clapped his hands together. “An adventure in Tokyo in T-minus…” He looked at Hajime’s alarm clock. “Four hours!”</p><p>“It’s more like a walk in Keio University, not an adventure in Tokyo.”</p><p>“Semantics, Iwa-chan. Semantics.”</p><p>Hajime thought again about his plan to confess with the roses and candles and sunsets. He suddenly felt the full force of how ridiculous and embarrassing his plan was, how Tooru would respond to it, how he might lose the comfortable friendship they had.</p><p>And yet, he was still determined to try.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It was late in the evening when Hajime finished setting up the roses and candles. The sun was still making its slow descent to the west, pink and blue and orange hues painting the sky. Keio University’s buildings were awash in the light of the sunset, the first one of many that Hajime would see over the course of the next few years.</p><p>The candles had just begun to melt, circles of wax pooling with the wick in the center. Hajime set down the roses, careful not to crush any of the petals, and tried to compose himself.</p><p>He felt slightly ridiculous, planning to confess to his best friend in a new city at a college he’d just arrived at. It felt like an odd version of a coming-of-age movie and a teen romcom. His racing pulse and sweaty palms were the only indicator that Tooru might just not reciprocate his feelings. </p><p>Despite all the doubt, it was too late to back out now.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Most of the candles had been burnt down to the end of their wicks when Hajime’s phone rang.</p><p>“Toor - Oikawa?” He said, phone to his ear. There was a loud, constant hum in the background noise he heard through the speaker.</p><p>“Hey, Iwa-chan!” Tooru’s voice sounded light and happy, but there was a hint of something - bashfulness or guilt, maybe - under his usual lilting greeting. </p><p>“Hey. Are you coming back to campus?” Hajime asked, casting a glance at the darkening sky. “It’s getting late.”</p><p>Tooru had decided to take a look around the Todai campus while they were in Tokyo, “just to see all the pretty girls.” Hajime had gladly let him; Tooru’s absence meant that he could set up the first-kiss-thing without worry.</p><p>“About that.” The audio crackled over the phone, and Hajime could hear it - definitely guilt. “I don’t think I’ll be able to come back to Keio before I have to go.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“It’s twenty minutes from here to Keio, and the train is in the opposite direction, so if I go back to Keio from Todai, I might miss the train.”</p><p>
  <em> But I don’t mind if you miss the train. You could stay here with me.  </em>
</p><p>Hajime sat down. He realized that he was gripping the phone tightly, and he forced himself to relax with an exhale. “Okay.”</p><p>“But I’ll be back in a week to move into my own dorm! And we’ll see each other in person then.” Tooru’s voice could barely be heard over the loud roar in the background.</p><p>“Hold on,” Hajime said, clenching his fist around his short hair. “Are you <em> already </em> on the train?”</p><p>There was nothing but the background noise for a few seconds. “My train ticket was set for six o’clock today.”</p><p>“I thought it was supposed to-” Hajime closed his eyes, but the scent of wilting roses and burning wax was all around him, a constant reminder of how late Tooru was. Or, rather, he was never showing up. “I thought your train left at nine, Oikawa.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Tooru said, and the guilt in his voice was back full force, enough to make Hajime’s heart wrench. “I know I should have told you, but I - I saw that brochure on your desk the other day. The one that had all the move-in week opportunities. It said you have a first-year get-together on March 29th. That’s today.”</p><p>Hajime sucked in a breath. He’d been planning to skip it.</p><p>Tooru continued talking. “I knew you wanted to show me around instead of going, so I thought that if I went back to Miyagi on an earlier train, you’d go.”</p><p>“That’s - why would you want me to go to that?” Hajime hoped he sounded less like he was heartbroken and more like he was confused.</p><p>“We’ve only ever been friends with people we know from volleyball, Iwa-chan. I thought that you might meet new people there -  I don’t know - a friend or a girlfriend or whoever. So you aren’t lonely.”</p><p>“Lonely?” Hajime tried to keep the desperation out of his voice. He looked down at the roses beside him. “I have you.”</p><p>“I meant someone new. Someone you can talk to in Tokyo.”</p><p>“You’ll be in Tokyo, too.”</p><p>“I’m not new, Iwa-chan. And I’m half an hour away from Keio.”</p><p>“Thirty minutes is nothing. I’d make the commute every day if you wanted me to.”</p><p>“But it’s not the same. I won’t understand Keio things, and you won’t understand Todai things. That’s just how it works.”</p><p>“You’re not even at Todai yet.” His voice was flinty. “We haven’t even started college, and you’re making assumptions about how we’re going to grow apart.”</p><p>“That’s not the point.” Tooru sighed into the phone, clearly frustrated, and Hajime wondered if he was frustrated with himself or with Hajime’s responses. “I feel like I’m preventing you from branching out, Iwa-chan, and I hate that feeling.”</p><p>“You’re not. Whether I have other friends or not, it’s unrelated to you.”</p><p>“Friends don’t monopolize each other the way we do.”</p><p>The whole point, of course, was that they could be something beyond friends. “Oikawa-” He started.</p><p>“I just want what will make you happiest. I always want that. And right now, I think it’s going to your first-year meeting to make new friends.”</p><p>“I’m just trying to say that you’re not making any sense.” Hajime watched as the sun disappeared into the horizon, light fading behind the dark trees lining the Keio campus. He tried his best to imagine Tooru sitting in a train cabin alone, looking out the window and seeing the same setting sun, and he wondered what expression Tooru had on his face. Was it sadness? Anger? Resignation?</p><p>“Well, I’m sorry for caring.”</p><p>“Don’t put words in my mouth, Oikawa. You should have told me about the early train sooner.”</p><p>“I knew you’d make a fuss like you’re doing now!”</p><p>“Then you shouldn’t have done it at all!”</p><p>There was a long pause for both of them, filled only by the buzz of cicadas and the train engine. Tooru’s voice was gentle when he spoke, the edge taken away. “I said that I was sorry about the train, and I didn’t mean to make you upset. I thought you’d appreciate the opportunity to get to ditch me and hang out with new people for once.”</p><p>“It’s fine, Oikawa.” Hajime tried to swallow down the unfamiliar lump in his throat. He was never able to stay angry at Tooru. “You’re an asshole for leaving me here alone, though.”</p><p>Tooru let out a surprised and relieved laugh, a clear sound that cut through the hum of the train engine. He seemed calm now that their tense back-and-forth had ceased. “I’ll see you in seven days, Iwa-chan! Have fun at the first-year thing, and make a new friend or two or three! Good night!”</p><p>“Okay,” Hajime said. “Good night, Oikawa.”</p><p>Tooru hung up the phone first.</p><p>Hajime looked up to see the moon rising in the sky, round and luminous. He let his hand fall, limp, to his side. The sound of cicadas was loud around him. He was still sitting alone in the grass, surrounded by dying flames and flowers. </p><p>He blew out the candles and picked up the shards of his broken heart. Instead of heading to the building where the first-year get-together was taking place, Hajime went to the dumpsters and disposed of his failure, then returned to his dorm room of dust and suitcases. He’d never felt more lonely than when Tooru wasn’t at his side.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“<em> Oikawa? </em>” The words were out of Hajime’s mouth before he could stop them, one name letting out the torrent of emotions that he’d been battling since Hanamaki’s birthday.</p><p>“Hey, Iwa-chan!” Tooru’s smile was genuine as he turned away from the nurse behind the main desk.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” Hajime stopped in front of him, taking in the nice polo shirt and expensive-looking trench coat Tooru wore. “You didn’t text or call.”</p><p>Tooru gave him a once-over, glancing from Hajime’s shoes to the pen tucked into the pocket of his scrubs. “Just thought I’d pop by.”</p><p>“How’d you know I’m at the hospital right now?”</p><p>“Mattsun said you were doing clinical rotations here.” Tooru bit his lip, and Hajime was struck by how similar Tooru looked to Ito when she was trying to ask Hajime out. He shook his head as Tooru continued. “Are you busy right now? Did I get you at a bad time?”</p><p>“No, I’m not too busy right now.”</p><p>Tooru began walking away from the front desk. “Should we go somewhere else to talk for a while?”</p><p>“Sure,” Hajime said, still thrown off by Tooru’s appearance. It was odd to see Tooru, the figure that seemed to represent his adolescence, surrounded by the hospital of his adulthood. “There’s a cafe on the third floor. Let’s go there.”</p><p>As they made their way to the cafe, side by side, Tooru kept on trying to make conversation - little comments, mostly innocuous pleasantries such as “I like your scrubs, Iwa-chan! Very stylish.” and “Isn’t it nice outside today?”</p><p>Hajime was confused by Tooru’s suddenly friendly behavior. They’d spent weeks avoiding each other - more like ignoring each other, really - and now he wanted to talk like they were old friends?</p><p>It struck him that maybe he’d been too obvious about his feelings toward Tooru the last time they spoke at Hanamaki’s birthday. Tooru had always been a perceptive person, and he might have seen through Hajime’s bravado and gruff responses.</p><p>At the cafe, Hajime ordered a cappuccino for himself, and Tooru wanted an iced tea. Even though Tooru protested, Hajime paid for them both.</p><p>“So,” Hajime said, looking at Tooru. They were seated in a corner of the tiny hospital cafe, far away from the prying eyes of Hajime’s seniors who might be wondering what a med student was doing with a stranger. “What did you want to talk about?”</p><p>Tooru laughed, but it sounded nervous. “What makes you think I wanted to talk about something in particular?”</p><p>“Why else would you be here?”</p><p>Tooru played with the straw of his iced tea the same way he’d done back at the sushi restaurant. Hajime wondered if it was a new habit of Tooru’s. “Is it so hard to believe that I just wanted to see you?”</p><p>Hajime’s mouth felt dry. He pretended to drink his still too-hot cappuccino and said nothing.</p><p>“That’s really all it was. I just wanted to see my best friend again.”</p><p><em> My best friend </em>. As cynical as it sounded, Hajime had thought that he had grown too old to have best friends. Evidently, Tooru didn’t think the same way.</p><p>“So you decided to surprise me while I’m at school?” Hajime said, trying to make his tone of voice playful and lighthearted. He didn’t think it worked.</p><p>“This isn’t school, it’s work.” Tooru looked out the glass partition separating the cafe area from the rest of the building. “At a hospital.”</p><p>“I’m still a student, you know. At least for a while.”</p><p>Tooru took a sip of his drink. “You’re nothing like the students I teach.”</p><p>“What are your students like?” Hajime asked, grateful for the easily flowing conversation. He hadn’t spoken so comfortably with Tooru in months.</p><p>“They’re so bratty sometimes. But also very smart and witty.”</p><p>Hajime snorted. “Like you?”</p><p>Tooru’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Just like me. Maybe that’s why I’m so fond of my students.”</p><p>“My students,” Hajime mimicked, trying out the words in his mouth. He felt like he was in high school again, chatting with Tooru by his locker before school. His speaking habits seemed to regress a decade back until he <em> was </em> a high schooler living in a twenty-six year old man’s body. “You sound so old when you talk like that.”</p><p>“We’re both old geezers now. Mid-twenties, Iwa-chan. Before we know it, we’ll be <em> thirty </em>.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah. Hanamaki’s rubbing off on you. Thirty isn’t old.”</p><p>“Still,” Tooru sighed. “What I’d do to be in my students’ shoes again…”</p><p>“To be young and dumb, you mean?”</p><p>“Exactly. To experience everything one more time, and maybe do things differently.” Tooru was looking at a spot on the table, eyes boring into the nick in the wood. It reminded Hajime of the times they’d sat in each other’s houses after volleyball practice, talking about everything and nothing at all, the times Tooru would suddenly get lost in thought. </p><p>Tooru brightened up a few seconds later. “It’s okay. Parallel-universe-me is doing all of that and more right now. Or should I say parallel-universe-me’s? There are a lot of them, I’m sure.”</p><p>Hajime leaned back, his mind flashing back to when he’d searched up Tooru’s research online. </p><p>Tooru seemed to be assessing his reaction as he continued speaking. “</p><p>“I’m glad you’re still interested in parallel universes after all these years.”</p><p>“Well,” Tooru said, the glimmer of a smile on his face, “aren’t you still interested in sports medicine? Orthopedic surgery and all that?”</p><p>“Of course I am,” Hajime said. There’s a strange lump in his throat that he can’t seem to swallow. “It’s what I’m doing for a living.”</p><p>“That’s not what I meant. It’s more than a job, right? Jobs shouldn’t be chores.”</p><p>Hajime saw his point, but he scoffed anyway. “It’s not a chore, it’s work. It has its ups and downs. It’s still preferable to any other career I can think of, anyway.”</p><p>“Career and job and work.” Tooru’s gaze was steady. “Remember when we used to talk about vocations? Callings? Passions?”</p><p>“Passion is overrated,” Hajime said, thinking of all the essays he’d written but never submitted to medical school admissions committees about “passion.” They’d all ended up trashed and deleted permanently from his laptop. They weren’t application essays at all; they had been more like confessions of loyalty and love towards an unnamed best friend. “And even if it mattered, I’m plenty passionate about what I do.”</p><p>“Iwa-chan.” Tooru’s voice held some exasperation. “You mean that, right?”</p><p>“Which part?”</p><p>“Being passionate about what you do.”</p><p>Hajime frowned. He tried not to think about his motivation to become an orthopedic surgeon and instead about his current trajectory towards first year residency at a big hospital. He’d be able to fix broken knees on broken high school volleyball players. “I meant it.”</p><p>“Did it start from me? My knee injury?” Tooru spoke softly, like he was afraid some other customer at the cafe would overhear.</p><p>Hajime’s hand tightened on the cup he held. “So this is why you came today, Oikawa. I was wondering since I knew you hate hospitals.”</p><p>“That’s not the only reason.” Tooru drew back slightly, looking almost hurt. “Answer the question. Is it selfish if I assume that you started doing it because of me?”</p><p>“You’ve always been a little selfish,” Hajime replied. He didn’t sound as bitter as he wanted, but his point came across.</p><p>Tooru stood up, his lips pressed in a thin line. He’d barely touched his drink. “Thanks for meeting with me.”</p><p>“You just ask the questions you want and then leave?” Hajime didn’t know where this newfound anger came from, but it made sense to him. He’d never been angry at the Tooru in his head before. The Tooru in front of him, dressed in an unfamiliar coat with an unfamiliar scarf and unfamiliar glasses, was not the same person.</p><p>“That wasn’t my intention,” Tooru said, but he didn’t make a move to sit back down. Instead, he sighed, opened his wallet, and left a few dollar bills. “That’s for the coffee.”</p><p>Hajime opened his mouth to tell him that Tooru didn’t need to pay him back, but Tooru interrupted him by taking out a small sticky note and a pen. He watched him scribble something in his neat cursive, a far cry from Hajime’s own scrawl. Tooru stuck the paper firmly on the table. </p><p>“Text me if this means anything to you,” Tooru said, clicking the pen shut and tucking everything back into his wide coat pockets. “See you later, Iwa-chan.”</p><p>After a moment spent stewing in a silent whirlwind of his own emotions, Hajime unstuck the note and read it.</p><p>
  <em> Tokyo  -  March 29th, 2012. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>sticking with weekly updates to hold myself accountable is more challenging than i thought, but i like it. i'm still wondering if anyone's really reading this mess at all.</p><p>thank you so much for reading!!! kudos/feedback is much, much appreciated. &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. auribus teneo lupum</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“So you’re a big believer in everything happening as it is and for a reason.”</p><p>“I mean…” Hajime paused. “I’m not really religious or anything. But I guess the idea of multiple versions of me doing infinite variations of other actions is a little overwhelming.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>auribus teneo lupum: literally "i hold a wolf by the ears."</p><p>used to describe "an unsustainable situation, and in particular one in which both doing nothing and doing something to resolve it are equally risky."</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hey, Sanada, who’s that guy setting for Todai?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime straightened up. In the row of the guest bleachers directly below him, a spectator was gesturing down at the volleyball court. His face turned to the person beside him. The white embroidery on the back of his hoodie told Hajime that he belonged to the team opposing Todai. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Number 13?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a new recruit named Oikawa Tooru.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh. Never heard of him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously, Minami? He’s their starting setter, I think. Pretty damn good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy in the hoodie shrugged. “I don’t remember him from the inter-high tournaments, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s probably not from Tokyo, then,” the other student said, fidgeting with his glasses. “Or we would’ve known him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So he never made it to Nationals?” They watched as Tooru did a spectacular setter dump, and the stadium bleachers burst into cheers. Hajime clapped loudly, pretending not to hear the conversation in the seats below him. The referee whistled as one of Tooru’s teammates readied himself for a serve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, never.” The boy with the glasses sighed. “A shame, huh? He’s got talent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For a first year in college, maybe. I wonder if Fukurodani could’ve beaten Ichibayashi last year with that guy as their setter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Akaashi Keiji was the only guy that could handle Fukurodani’s ace back then. Even if Oikawa’s technically better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn, I forgot how freakish your memory is when it comes to players. Oikawa has more guts than Akaashi, at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime knew of Fukurodani, but he’d never been the kind of volleyball buff to memorize the line-ups of teams he hadn’t faced before. Tooru had been that person to research every team in the country; Hajime liked to size his opponents once he knew for sure that they were competing against each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two college students chatting in front of him, unaware of Hajime listening to their loud conversation, reminded him of the time the year before. That day, he’d sat with Tooru in the stands of the Sendai City Gymnasium and watched Karasuno face Shiratorizawa. Tooru’s bad knee had been tucked to his chest as he frowned down at the court with eyes swollen from crying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their dream for years had been to be the ones on the court winning against Shiratorizawa, and it had been taken from them by Karasuno - fairly, of course, because there was no way more fair than a volleyball match - but the fairness of it somehow made the loss hurt worse back then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a whistle from the referee. Hajime fixed his gaze on the match, eyes following Tooru in his new jersey - dark blue, a decidedly different color than the white and turquoise of Seijoh’s uniform, and emblazoned with the number 13. Without the white knee brace on his leg or the number 1 on his jersey, Tooru looked like a different person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Todai’s a good team and all, but even an amazing setter can’t make up for the… failings of the whole team. You would know, Sanada.” Minami leaned back, and Hajime exhaled slowly to control the irritation he felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Failings,” Sanada scoffed. “You think that’s why my team couldn’t beat yours last year?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or why Oikawa’s team - what was it again? - couldn’t go to Nationals.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aobajohsai,” Sanada said, messing with his glasses. “I think it’s the same prefecture as Shiratorizawa."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Minami snapped. “And Karasuno, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s your answer, then. Too many other good schools in the area. Aobajohsai never got the chance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still think if the rest of his team had been pretty good back then, Oikawa should’ve had a shot at Nationals. He should have at least made the fourth round, I think. Maybe I could’ve played against him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime ground his teeth together. His mouth was open before he could stop himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seijoh was just fine last year,” he said, leaning forward so the two college students could hear him. He sounded more irritated than he’d intended. “Oikawa was strong, sure, but so was the rest of the team.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The one with glasses turned, eyes widened in surprise. “Iwaizumi Hajime, Aobajohsai’s ace and wing spiker. You’re a first year in college, now, aren’t you?” He smiled politely. “Nice to meet you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re like an encyclopedia, Sanada. Chill out.” Minami tugged at his hoodie strings, looking unapologetic after being caught gossipping about Hajime’s former team. “So you know Oikawa?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Hajime said brusquely. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Better than anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he didn’t add.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You played with him all three years?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even longer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sanada pointed to the court below them just as Tooru executed a particularly difficult set, a well-timed and well-practiced movement that was obvious even to the casual observer. “But not now. Volleyball isn't your thing anymore?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he came to see his old setter for whatever reason,” Minami said. “That counts for something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not on a volleyball team now,” Hajime said. He felt odd saying it. “I don’t really play anymore. Too, uh, busy with school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sanada nodded knowingly. “An injury? Let me guess - a </span>
  <em>
    <span>knee</span>
  </em>
  <span> injury.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t injured at all,” Hajime said, glancing down at Tooru playing volleyball in the court. He was eager to stop talking and focus on watching Tooru like he’d planned when he came to Todai’s gym for the match. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Sanada adjusted his glasses again, and Hajime was tempted to shove them onto his face for him. “I thought I heard that there was some serious knee injury on Aobajohsai’s team. Well, if it wasn’t you, who was it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oikawa,” Hajime ground out. He was sure that Sanada knew already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The kid playing right now?” Minami asked. Hajime didn’t bring up how Minami looked about a few years younger and ten centimeters shorter than Tooru.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not wearing a brace,” Sanada said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime thought of the phone call he’d had with Tooru just the week before, another repeat of the many arguments they’d had over knee braces and doctor’s decisions since high school. He said nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Knee injuries are bad, bad news,” Minami said sagely. “I don’t think he’ll last very long, knee brace or not.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a little rude, sorry,” Sanada said. From his expression, he seemed accustomed to Minami’s comments. “Minami speaks from experience, that’s all. No offense to your school or your setter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not my setter anymore,” Hajime said, jaw clenched. “I don’t even go here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t?” Sanada frowned. “Why’d you even show up to the match?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime opened his mouth to reply, but his breath caught in his throat when he saw Tooru stumble slightly, landing roughly on his right knee. The volleyball slammed to the ground on Todai’s side of the court, and the spectators on the other side of the stadium roared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Todai’s coach signaled for a time out. Hajime watched Tooru get to his feet, leaning against a teammate as he made his way to the bench. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minami put his hands behind his head, casually sinking down in his chair like he was watching a movie. “My bet is that he’ll be out of commission before his college career is over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime stood up abruptly. “It was nice to meet you,” he said, grabbing his bag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep.” Minami looked like he was on the verge of laughing at a funny inside joke that Hajime didn’t know, and Sanada only smiled again. “Good talking with you, Iwaizumi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Hajime found a new seat towards the back of the bleachers, he kept his eyes on Tooru, who was sitting on the bench with his head in his hands. His hands were wrenched in the bottom of his jersey, that unfamiliar shade of blue startlingly dark against his pale knuckles.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was about an hour later when the last set ended and Todai’s team officially lost the match. Hajime was waiting outside the men’s locker room, trying to conceal his worry as Tooru’s teammates slowly filtered out of the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oikawa’s in there, right?” he asked the player who’d filled in as setter after Tooru’s knee had given him trouble. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” The setter eyed him dubiously. “I wouldn’t recommend waiting for him, though. He’s not really in the best of moods right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime thanked him, sat down on the bench, and continued to wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Tooru emerged from the locker room, he was hunched over, weighed down by guilt and exhaustion. He hadn’t cried, it seemed - though he’d always been somewhat of a crybaby compared to Hajime, leaving home and going to college seemed to have changed things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Iwa-chan,” he said, jaw set. His knee was wrapped in a brace, and he wasn’t making an effort to hide his slight limp. “Thanks for waiting for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime stood up from the bench and crossed the hall, standing by Tooru’s right with one arm held out in case Tooru stumbled. “Of course I’d wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You saw me fuck up the match, didn’t you?” Tooru sighed. “The coach is making me go to the clinic tomorrow to get my knee checked up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t you go tonight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m too tired to deal with doctors today, Iwa-chan.” Tooru gripped Hajime’s sleeve tightly as he shuffled along on his bad knee, and Hajime smelled the faint scent of body wash and tiger balm on him. “And you’re not a doctor yet, so you can’t give me orders. I’m tired of people telling me what to do with myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Hajime thumped Tooru on the back and tried to bring up his spirits, Minami’s words still weighed on Hajime’s mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’ll be out of commission before his college career is over</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hajime’s move to his new apartment was a slow, arduous process. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hoshino Memorial Hospital wasn’t too far from his old apartment, but the combination of a cranky landlord, a broken elevator, and numerous leaky faucets convinced Hajime to move out of his place and find somewhere closer to the new hospital. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, Ennoshita, the former Karasuno volleyball player and his underclassman in med school, was helping Hajime haul his things to his new apartment. He’d volunteered after hearing that Hajime’s fellow fourth year med school classmates and friends were all preparing for residency interviews.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Initially, Hajime hadn’t minded the idea of moving. Even after spending four years in the dingy one-bedroom that he’d barely been able to afford, fresh out of college and thousands of dollars in debt from student loans, he had never formed any emotional attachments to the apartment. He was leaving behind his time in medical school and moving onto residency, a new stage in his life. It seemed fitting that he would change where he lived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only after he’d decided to move that he’d realized how frustrating the process of moving out actually was. He’d had to scrub everything clean, push around furniture while dealing with noise complaints, and was only now getting started on tidying the many random items he’d kept over the years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His packing had started with a deep clean of the few rooms in his apartment, sorting through drawers of assorted trinkets and expired coupons. A cigarette lighter, still full of lighter fluid. Movie ticket stubs to an old alien sci-fi flick. Some old sticks of extra long-lasting bubblegum. A dusty keychain with a volleyball charm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With each object in his hand, Hajime always turned towards the trash can. Inevitably, he would hesitate, turn away, and then toss it into an unlabeled cardboard box that he was calling his save-for-later belongings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sorting through his things was the same as sorting through his memories. As he tidied and packed, Hajime felt the sense that he wasn’t moving on from high school or college. The move-out was a pretense. He wasn’t able to let go of seemingly worthless junk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime thought briefly about what other people he knew would do, a recently formed habit of his when he was in doubt: Nagisa would check how expensive it was, and Ito would try to justify keeping something because it might come in handy later. Ennoshita would make a pros and cons list for each item. Matsukawa would say something like “sentimental value is value, too,” and proceed to keep as many things as he could physically bring. Hanamaki, on the other hand, would throw out anything that reminded him of a bad time or no longer had practical value. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unbidden, he thought of Tooru. Tooru would have the best judgement in times like these, even if only because he knew Hajime best. He would know exactly what Hajime should keep and what he should leave behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doorbell rang. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime tossed the things he was holding into the cardboard box and hurried to the door, which groaned as it opened. At the very least, he wouldn’t miss the sound of the rusty hinges.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Ennoshita. Thanks for coming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem,” Ennoshita said, surveying the mess of boxes and bags behind Hajime. “Looks like you’ve made some progress. Still need any help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime smiled sheepishly. “Maybe with taping up the boxes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got it. I thought you might not be done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really, thank you. I owe you a meal later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem, Iwaizumi.” Ennoshita rolled up his sleeves and started towards the living room. “Where are Matsukawa and Hanamaki today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Busy, I think.” Hajime had asked Matsukawa to help him originally, planning to use his car to transport his things. Matsukawa had declined, saying that he already had plans with Hanamaki. “Both of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Oikawa?” Ennoshita asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime had seen that observant yet gentle look in all of Karasuno’s former captains, especially since Ennoshita had started attending the same medical school as him with the intention of becoming a psychiatrist. He tried to act casual. “You know how he is. Probably doing something at Todai.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Ennoshita said, turning to get a strip of tape. “It’s not easy to meet up with old friends. There’s always one person who’s busy or cancels or something, right? Like, the last time I met up with the rest of the Karasuno team was a year ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’re they doing?” Hajime liked the guys on Karasuno despite how bitter he’d been about Seijoh’s loss to them back in high school. And though he wasn’t inclined to admit it, he’d had a soft spot for Kageyama since their days at Kitagawa Daiichi.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, they’re good.” Ennoshita carefully taped a box shut and scooted it across the carpet to Hajime. “No one’s really changed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kageyama’s doing well, too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, for sure. He’s a monster at volleyball.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. He always has been,” Hajime said. He grabbed a Sharpie to label the box. “I haven’t seen the Aobajohsai team in a while, either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s hard when to meet up with people when you don’t have any shared obligations.” Ennoshita lugged a box across the room. “There’s nothing to keep you together except your own will to meet up once you get old.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s true. There aren’t club meetings or classes anymore, so people grow apart easily.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s kind of a shame,” Ennoshita said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s life, I guess.” Hajime held up a plastic alien bobblehead that Tooru had probably gotten with a McDonald’s kids’ meal years ago. It looked like the green toy from Toy Story, a three-eyed monster that somehow managed to be cute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss high school. I never thought I would, but I do. What about you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“High school was awful,” Hajime laughed, “but I get your point. It’s better than being an adult and dealing with all this shit.” He clenched his fingers around the green bobblehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind of shit, exactly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, uh, worrying about making things work on your own. Not seeing people you want to see. Taxes. Moving out. I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm. So high school didn’t have any of that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just fond memories and no regrets, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime thought of Tooru’s knee, of not pressing him to warm-up harder or stretch more or listen to the doctor’s orders for once in his life. “A few regrets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ennoshita set down the tape. “Like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, nothing serious. Things probably would have turned out the same way no matter what.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you can’t know that for sure.” Ennoshita leaned back, resting on the palms of his hands. “You know, I read something in the news the other day-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you, seventy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Says the first year resident. You’re going to be senile soon, old man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a </span>
  <em>
    <span>year</span>
  </em>
  <span> older than you. Respect your upperclassman, you brat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ennoshita waved his hand in the air, shaking his head. “Anyway, I read that there’s some fascinating research being done on parallel universes in conjunction with the University of Tokyo. I think it’s some university in Britain or something. University College London or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Parallel universes?” The swift sense of deja vu hit Hajime. “That sounds… cutting edge. And at UCL, too. Wow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Todai article I read said that there are different levels of multiverses or something. I’m no expert, but it sounded pretty cool. Like - just imagine that there’s another you right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another me,” Hajime repeated, trying not to recall all the conversations he’d had with Tooru about this very topic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, one that’s specializing in psychiatry instead of orthopedic surgery or something. The superior specialty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Every single me in every single universe would specialize in orthopedic surgery,” Hajime said. He knew next to nothing about parallel universes, but for some reason, this declaration struck him as entirely true. His motivation for enduring medical school and residency would always be the same. It would always be Tooru.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, then a version of you that actually packs his stuff on time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up and tape up the box,” Hajime said, smiling and turning away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A version of you that didn’t lose to Karasuno in high school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ouch, dude, touchy subject.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ennoshita smiled apologetically. Hajime remembered why he liked Ennoshita; he always knew where the line was. Maybe it was the natural psychiatrist in him. “Haven’t you ever wished things went differently back then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. But I don’t think anything would really change.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re a big believer in everything happening as it is and for a reason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean…” Hajime paused. “I’m not really religious or anything. But I guess the idea of multiple versions of me doing infinite variations of other actions is a little overwhelming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish I could go back to high school in another universe, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, according to the parallel universe theory, you wouldn’t really be you. It’d be a different Ennoshita Chikara.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know. But I did a lot of stuff I’m not too proud of. I’d want to go back if I could.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’d you do, skip practice a couple of times?” Hajime leaned over to punch Ennoshita on the arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ennoshita laughed. “It seemed like a big deal back then. If I could go back, I like to think I wouldn’t have made the same decision.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything seems more important when you’re in the moment and less important in hindsight, and decisions are always easier to revise when you look back.” Hajime said. He turned towards the trash can, ready to send the bobblehead in an arc across the room, then decided to toss the alien toy into his save-for-later cardboard box. “Especially when it’s about high school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not volleyball. I still remember the rush of winning a set or getting a hard-earned point, and it’s been </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Surgery is more exciting than volleyball,” Hajime said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I’m not cut out for surgery.” Ennoshita looked up. “Psychiatry is more my pace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Hold on - are you trying to psychoanalyze me right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not, Iwaizumi,” Ennoshita said, his smile gentle. Hajime was unconvinced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, diagnose me anyway, doc. Anything wrong? I’m guessing I’m more stressed than the average person my age.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want my input?” Ennoshita asked. “It’ll be as a friend and underclassman, definitely not as a doctor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A free consultation from you? Go ahead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d say you’re hung up on something in the past, but you don’t even realize it yourself. You’re trying to escape, just a little bit, by putting it out of your mind and behind you. Except that kind of tactic isn’t very effective because you can’t let go unless you confront it yourself. Head on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime looked at his save-for-later cardboard box and the green alien bobblehead peeking over the edge. “And how did you come to that conclusion, Dr. Ennoshita? Just from our conversation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call me that,” Ennoshita said, his ears turning pink. “I guess from everything I’ve gotten to know about you so far since med school. You deny stuff about the past a lot. I thought you were a forward-minded thinker - don’t give me that look, it’s a real thing, not just a buzzword - but it seems more like you just don’t like talking about stuff from the past when it’s related to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime looked at him, and Ennoshita laughed nervously. “Well, It’s only a hunch.” He brightened up. “Did I get it right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swatted Ennoshita in the back of the head. “Hell no. You’ve got a long way to go before you become a psychiatrist. For now, keep on being my valet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ennoshita sputtered in protest. Hajime turned away, forcing himself to laugh and pretending like he wasn’t shaken by the accuracy of Ennoshita’s assessment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime was acutely aware of the faded yellow sticky note in his pocket, the same one Tooru had given to him in the hospital cafe a week back. He knew it was only a trick of his own mind, but as he loaded his boxes and bags into Ennoshita’s SUV, he almost felt like he could smell the scent of fresh green apples and sharp salonpas and musky old books. Tooru’s scent.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He texted Tooru that night in his new apartment, surrounded by unopened boxes and fully packed suitcases. The date of March 29th, 2012, struck him as strangely close to the first day of university. In 2012, Hajime and Tooru graduated high school and began college in Tokyo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime still couldn’t figure out why Tooru was being so cryptic. It was like him to be complicated and at times even disingenuous, but the sticky note was frankly bewildering.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Keio’s first year move-in day</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he typed. He sent the message before he could change his mind about responding in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The reply was nearly instantaneous.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>and?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He recalled their argument over Tooru taking the early train back home. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We had an argument that day</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he texted. He didn’t mention how it was the first instance of many times in college that Tooru tried to push him away, claiming it was for Hajime’s own good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The reply was slower, but Hajime waited with the messaging app open until it came.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>anything else??</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime vaguely remembered walking to the store and buying roses and candles before getting stood up by a date he never asked out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ground his teeth together. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not that I can think of.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>okkkk that’s all i wanted to hear! i almost forgot about that argument haha</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime’s eyes narrowed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What was this all about? You can just text me anytime.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime hesitated before adding, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Or we can meet up whenever you’re free.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru’s response was delayed. A few hours later, well into the early AM, Hajime’s phone screen lit up: </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>i’m a little bit busy but soon for sureee</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>sweet dreams, iwa-chan~</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hajime was on call at the Hoshino Memorial Hospital a few days after he moved into his new apartment. He was working in the same ward that Tooru had stayed at when his knee gave out, an experience that he’d expected but felt jarring nonetheless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he puttered around checking on patients, he felt the unsettling sense that came along with being in the doctor’s shoes instead of the patients. Whenever he passed by an operating room with an ortho patient, Hajime recalled his early twenties, helpless in the waiting room while faceless doctors tinkered with his best friend’s knee and dreams.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime was one of those faceless doctors now. Hundreds of thousands of dollars and countless years had inducted him among their ranks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something rang, and he rubbed his eyes and reached for his phone. He’d been getting a lot of calls from Fuyumi, one of the few hospital nurses who was younger than him. No doubt that Fuyumi needed him to sign off on something or round on the patients again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Iwaizumi here,” Hajime mumbled. “What do you need, Fuyumi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s me, Hanamaki. Who the hell is Fuyumi?” Hanamaki’s voice replied. “Whoa, hold on. You’re still at the hospital right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime hastily sat up, like Hanamaki could see him. “Makki. Hey. Sorry, I’m a little out of it right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can tell. Because it’s, like, eleven at night and you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>working</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That should be illegal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime sighed deeply. “What did you call for? Is there an emergency? Matsukawa’s doing okay, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mattsun? Oh, yeah, for sure. He locked himself up in our - I mean, his - room last night, saying he had a spark of inspiration or some shit like that. His novel’s coming along, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool,” Hajime said, rubbing his eyes. “What’s it about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No clue, he’s all secretive about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah. That’s kind of a first for him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t it?” Hanamaki chuckled. “Well, I didn’t call you to tell you about Matsukawa overcoming his writer’s block. I thought you should know - I mean, usually he’s the one to sort stuff out between you and Oikawa, but, Mattsun’s not really coming out of his room right now - anyway, have you spoken to Oikawa at all lately?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About two weeks ago,” Hajime said. He reached into his pocket, taking out the sticky note with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tokyo  -  March 29th, 2012 </span>
  </em>
  <span>written on it. The edges of the paper, once sharp, were worn down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime hadn’t spoken to Tooru since that encounter at the hospital. He’d drafted multiple starting texts in his head, even considering calling him out of the blue, but he’d never followed through. “Why? Is something wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>, per se. Well, what does </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span> really mean, anyway? Is getting blackout drunk really wrong? Being unemployed and unemployable?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Makki. Are you okay? Why’d you call me?” Hajime asked, trying not to make it obvious that he’d slept less than four hours on average for the past two weeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki cleared his throat. “Uh. Oikawa is going to the UK for a research internship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To </span>
  <em>
    <span>where</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice seemed to be smaller when he spoke again. “The UK.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime was silent for a few seconds. “A physics research internship?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess so. I didn’t really get all the details.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuyumi, the young nurse, had knocked gently on the residents’ resting room door and was beckoning to him. “Hey, Iwaizumi, the patient in Room 354 is complaining of numbness in her lower back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, Hanamaki, wait one moment.” Hajime rose, grabbing his stethoscope and tucking his phone by his shoulder. He nodded at Fuyumi. “Got it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Iwaizumi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi. I’m here. Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Iwaizumi, Oikawa is going across the fucking world. To the United fucking Kingdom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime’s step faltered. “Right. Do you know, by chance… Is his internship at the University College London?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it is. So Oikawa did tell you after all.” Hanamaki sounded disheartened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t,” Hajime said hurriedly, rushing after Fuyumi. “Just…” He recalled his conversation with Ennoshita. “A hunch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s a damn good hunch. Apparently Oikawa’ll be in London for a while. He left pretty abruptly and didn’t tell anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime could tell from Hanamaki’s tone that he was offended by this. Tooru seemed to have violated an unspoken agreement in their friendship of four, the pact to update each other so they wouldn’t fall out of touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to go,” Hajime said, stopping outside a patient’s door. Fuyumi looked apologetic, but she silently opened the door and gestured for him to follow her. “I - I’ll call you back, okay? When my shift is over. We’ll talk about this then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki sighed. “All right, Iwaizumi. Go save some lives or whatever doctors do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” Hajime lingered in the hallway, and Fuyumi glanced at him anxiously. “I know all three of us all seem busy right now, but I promise we’ll continue this conversation later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The call ended. Hajime slipped the phone into his white coat pocket, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Then he plastered on his best doctor-in-training smile and entered the patient’s room.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>According to the volleyball-themed calendar on Hajime’s wall, today’s date was March 29th, 2012. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru was slouched in Hajime’s chair, feet propped up on the desk like he owned the place. Since Hajime had left the bedroom to grab an extra phone charger a few minutes before, he’d been bored and alone. He didn’t know how long it would take until Hajime would return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finished folding his second paper crane, which was lined with Hajime’s handwriting and biology problem sets, and flapped its wings halfheartedly before setting it against the tissue box on the desk. When he bent down to fish more paper out of Hajime’s trash can, he noticed a receipt on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was half-crumpled and small, halfway between the trash can and a beat-up duffel bag. The crinkles in the paper would be annoying, but it would have to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru smoothed out the paper - it was a local store’s receipt dated from that same day, sometime earlier in the morning. As he prepared to make the first fold, the tiny black lettering caught his eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He froze.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>ROSE BOQUET DOZEN, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it read.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>TEALGHT CANDLE 24 PACK.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>STNDRD LIGHTER.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no way Hajime had bought his parents flowers - he’d never been a filial son; he hadn’t even wanted his parents to help him move into his dorm. So it was possible that he was trying to romance a local girl without Tooru’s knowledge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru crumpled the receipt in his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned down to throw the paper in the trash, his fist clenched. As he bent over, he accidentally nudged the duffel bag by the desk with his foot. Its zipper was just barely left open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Tooru moved to close it, he was struck by the faint fragrance of fresh roses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The telltale sounds of footsteps snapped Tooru out of his daze. He stuffed the receipt into his pocket, where he’d tucked away his ticket for the earlier train back from Tokyo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look suspicious.” Hajime said as he came into the room, leaving the door open behind him. “You weren’t snooping around, were you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Tooru said, feigning delight, “I’ll have you know that I was looking around your bed and found the most wonderful stash of-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime chucked a paperback book at his head. Tooru dodged easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shittykawa,” Hajime said. “I can’t wait to get away from you for four years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you won’t miss me.” Tooru pretended to pout. He could feel the paper in his pocket, crumpled up and likely torn from the force of shoving it with the train ticket. “Anyone you’re actually going to miss, though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime coiled up the charger. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” Tooru paused for effect. “Girls.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scowl on Hajime’s face deepened. “Yeah, right. You’d know if I liked any girls, Oikawa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru blinked. “Would I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or maybe not. You’re pretty dense when it comes to obvious things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re not going to miss anyone who’s back in Miyagi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime turned to look at him, and Tooru hastily moved his hand away from his pocket. “Maybe my parents, I guess. Matsukawa and Hanamaki and the rest of the team. There’s probably no one else in Miyagi for me to really miss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you planning to visit Coach Irihata later or something?” Tooru pressed. “Bring him a nice gift or something? Flowers, maybe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flowers for </span>
  <em>
    <span>Coach</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Fuck no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If not for Irihata-chan, then who else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one in Miyagi gets flowers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s mean, Iwa-chan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flowers are tacky as hell unless they’re for, I don’t know, romantic shit or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru glanced down at the duffel bag. “Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said something about liking roses and candles for romantic confessions a while back, right?” Hajime was turned away from Tooru, hunched over some bags.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? You mean when we were in middle school?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something like that,” Hajime said. “I guess I took the words to heart back then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah.” Tooru forced himself to laugh. “Too bad no girl will confess to you like that, Iwa-chan!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe not, but that’s okay.” Hajime turned back around and smiled at him - that slow, warm smile that made Tooru’s heart stutter and then melt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru grinned back, easy and cheerful, ignoring the crushing weight of the receipt and train ticket burning a hole in his pocket.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>shorter than usual! i skimped on my weekly schedule because last week was a little rough.</p><p>thank you so much for reading!!! feedback makes my entire month :D</p><p>-- </p><p>SLIGHT MANGA SPOILERS BELOW (ft. corinna's thoughts no one asked for)</p><p>i had no idea that furudate was going to make it canon that hanamaki was “changing jobs.” me making hanamaki unemployed doesn’t feel so bad after all.</p><p>haikyuu’s ending hit me like a train because i’d stopped reading midway through the msby and schweiden game (to save up chapters). then i read them all at once, all the way to chapter 402, and i cried. (anyway, i’m so glad that oikawa and iwaizumi got the ending they deserved. this fic seems very out of character now but i’m going to continue for the sake of finishing it.)</p><p>yes i made oikawa’s college jersey number 13 on purpose. the fandom has pointed out tiny details in the manga ending that have utterly ruined me, and oikawa's #13 is one of them.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. dolor hic tibi proderit olim</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Yeah,” Hajime said, leaning down to grab the stray volleyballs. “You can do whatever you set your mind to, right here, right now. No parallel universe bullshit that you usually spout.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>"perfer et obdura dolor hic tibi proderit olim" is a latin quote from ovid that translates to "be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you."</p><p>hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Do you think it’s going to snow while we walk home, Iwa-chan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm.” Hajime kept an eye on the icy sidewalk, careful not to slip. “Maybe not today. The forecast said it’d be later this week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope it snows,” Tooru said. He was walking on the narrow ledge about a foot off of the ground, placing his feet deliberately one in front of the other. With his gloved hands out to the side to maintain balance, he looked like some kind of bundled-up acrobat. “Maybe school will be cancelled tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime kicked a chunk of ice into the road, where it broke into watery shards on the asphalt. “But practice will be cancelled, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can organize a separate practice,” Tooru said. “I just want to play in the snow one more time. Remember last year’s snowman? And the snowball fight with Makki and Mattsun?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That snowman was the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t my fault that the snow wouldn’t form a ball. Let’s make another one this year - properly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime’s lips twitched. “Yeah, fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru pumped his fist triumphantly into the air, then quickly brought his hands out to avoid falling over. “This year’s the last year we’re spending the winter in Miyagi, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can always visit next year,” Hajime said. “And it’s not like Tokyo doesn’t have winters or snow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not the same.” Tooru sighed heavily, looking up at the darkening sky. “I really, really hope it snows.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime heard the sound of ice falling off of the ledge and looked up just in time to see Tooru wobbling. He immediately rushed to his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru exhaled forcefully, using one hand to steady himself on Hajime’s shoulder. “Whoa, almost slipped.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, idiot.” Hajime’s breath came out in a white puff of cold air. He stayed at Tooru’s side, walking on the sidewalk in tandem with Tooru on the ledge. Their sounds of ice crunching underfoot matched as he mirrored Tooru’s pace. “Get down from there before you hurt yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay, I’m okay! It’s not even that far up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to slip and crack your head open.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I won’t. I refuse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not something you choose to have happen.” Hajime waved his hand. “Come on. “Just walk on the damn sidewalk, Oikawa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” Tooru said childishly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t blame me when you get stitches in your head and all your precious hair is shaved off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Iwa-chan will catch me before that can happen,” Tooru laughed, flinging his arms even higher up. He attempted a lame pirouette.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Tooru twirled on the ledge, one foot raised up, Hajime winced and held his arms out cautiously. “Only kids do what you’re doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m young at heart, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tch. More like dumb at heart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru made a face, turning to retort. Just as he opened his mouth, his eyes widened and his right knee buckled. Hajime’s eyes widened as he saw Tooru’s leg give out from under him, foot flying in the air when he lost his traction on the ledge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Iwa-chan-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime was already at his side, arms out in an instant to grab Tooru and pull him to his chest. They both tumbled to the ground - Tooru flat on top of him - landing hard against the concrete. Tooru’s forehead knocked his own as they hit the sidewalk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Hajime muttered, his arms tightening around Oikawa. He felt like the air had been knocked out of him. “You okay, Tooru? Look at me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru looked up at him. His scarf had come undone, and it hung loosely around his exposed neck, a blue vein pulsing under pale skin. Hajime noticed that Tooru’s ears were rapidly turning red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay,” Tooru said, smiling weakly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you hurt anywhere?” Hajime loosened his grip. He felt the dull throb on his rear, and he knew from the familiar ache that he was going to have a new bruise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all,” Tooru said, letting his head fall limp onto Hajime’s shoulder. “Are you okay, Iwa-chan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘M fine,” Hajime grumbled. He was suddenly aware that Tooru was still lying on top of him, a comfortable weight against his chest, and that he had his arms wrapped around him in a semblance of a lover’s embrace. His heart stuttered. “That could have been bad, Tooru.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Tooru said into Hajime’s shoulder. His voice was muffled by the fabric. “Really, really sorry. It was an accident.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a dumbass,” Hajime chided. He tilted his head back until he felt the sidewalk, and he stared up at the sky, willing himself to keep his hands off of Tooru’s back. “Now get off of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold on,” Tooru mumbled into Hajime’s down coat. “Let me stay here, just for a moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime automatically reached up to grasp Tooru’s arms in a loose grip, forcing Tooru to look him in the eye. “You sure you’re not hurt at all? Your knee’s feeling okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m really fine, Iwa-chan,” Tooru said. “I think you might be more hurt than me. Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime reached up to rub at his forehead where they had knocked into each other, and he laughed shakily. “Could be worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru was quiet. Hajime almost thought he could feel Tooru’s heartbeat through the many layers of their coats, but he knew he was deluding himself - the rapid heartbeat must have been his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, you’re fine. Get off,” Hajime said, trying to pry Tooru’s arms away. “Now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so warm, though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime stiffened up as Tooru seemed to nuzzle into him. “We’re in public.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re just hugging. Friends hug in public all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not while lying on the ground.” The back of Hajime’s head was freezing, and he was very aware of Tooru’s legs flush against his own. “Which is covered in ice. Get off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru rolled off of him, then got to his feet. He pulled Hajime up from the sidewalk and leaned over to dust the water droplets and ice out of Hajime’s hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You called me Tooru,” he said, smiling fondly down at him in a way that made Hajime’s breath catch in his throat. “It was kind of nice. Made the whole thing worth it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime pointedly looked down and dusted off his pants. “Don’t you dare do that again, asshole. I almost had a heart attack. You could’ve gotten seriously hurt.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he looked up again, Tooru’s hands were in his pockets, and Tooru was looking at him with an expression Hajime hadn’t seen before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re an idiot,” Hajime said on impulse, reaching out to lightly punch Tooru in the arm. “Also, I saved your ass, so you owe me a meat bun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Iwa-chan’s my savior,” Tooru agreed. “Let’s go, then. Before it starts to snow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime wasn’t sure if it was from the biting cold or his poorly wrapped scarf, but Tooru’s ears were flushed scarlet.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Being a resident doctor at Hoshino, Hajime quickly realized, was even harder than he’d expected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, he’d known that being a doctor wasn’t an easy job. The hours were long and unforgiving, shifts that had him at the hospital at six in the morning and home at ten in the evening. He’d once been too tired to drive home, so he’d tried to rest his eyes and ended up spending the entire night sleeping in his newly rented car in the hospital parking lot. The 5 AM alarm had woken him up about eight hours later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While alert and at work, Hajime was constantly being notified and paged to approve different medications or treatments or surgeries. The patients always had some sort of new troubles bothering them, from the IV drip to the bright lights. The patients’ guardians were usually pushy and disrespectful about procedures. The other residents were by no means unkind but certainly weren’t friendly, different from his time interning with Nagisa and Ito.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime had resolved that he could handle all of these woes - the endless work, the infinite complaints, the rudeness and occasional loneliness. And he had long ago accepted that medical school and residency would consume the twenties and even early thirties of most prospective doctors’ lives. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t the labor or exhaustion or burnout that nagged at him. Instead, his issues lied with the feeling that he was a fraud undeserving of the title of doctor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every time he introduced himself as “Dr. Iwaizumi,” Hajime felt like a patient would scrutinize him and dismiss him, claiming he didn’t have enough experience. He wouldn’t have blamed them; his knowledge was primarily gained from textbooks, not people. He didn’t have the expertise of a doctor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As a first year resident, he was back at the bottom of the food chain, open to criticism and condescension from the long-time nurses and attending physicians. He’d already slipped up a few times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It happens to all the first year residents,” the head nurse had told him, smiling and waving him off when he apologized for his incompetence. “No worries. You’re doing great so far.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some days, Hajime approved patients to be discharged from the hospital, and he felt like a hero. Other days, he watched as patients struggled with pain that he was unable to fix or alleviate, and he felt like a useless bystander. He hadn’t had the opportunity to feel like a villain yet, and he hoped that chance would never come. He struggled enough with calling himself “Dr. Iwaizumi” without the added pressure of a malpractice lawsuit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like impostor syndrome to me,” Hanamaki told him later that day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime had called him back after their brief conversation about Tooru’s departure to Britain, and they’d scheduled a time to meet up at a local 24-hour ramen restaurant. Hanamaki had free time outside of the many job interviews he’d scheduled for himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sick of being stuck in the house,” he had said over the phone. “Mattsun’s here, too, but all he does it write, and the sound of the keyboard is driving me crazy. Let’s go somewhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s midnight, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know a ramen place around here that’s still open. I’ll send you the address.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime had been tired after a fifteen hour shift at Hoshino, but he’d agreed. He liked spending time with Hanamaki, and a break was much needed after his first hellish week at the hospital.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lifted his spoon and blew gently at the tonkotsu broth to cool it down. He was aware of the looks that his blue scrubs were getting from others in the restaurant. “Impostor syndrome, you said?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you know it? It’s probably a big thing among doctors.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve only ever heard of it, never actually looked into it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki nodded. “It’s basically what you just described. Feeling like your qualifications and accomplishments aren’t enough. Like you’re a fake doctor or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime set down his spoon. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> a fake doctor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have a medical degree, don’t you?” Hanamaki swirled his chopsticks in the bowl. “That sounds legitimate enough to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been doing this for a week and I’ve already fucked up twice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone fucks up. Not just doctors.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime shook his head. “But surgeries can be life or death. I don’t have room to make mistakes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not the head surgeon or whatever it’s called, are you? No one expects you to be perfect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime decided against arguing, even though he wanted to press the topic further. Having Hanamaki reassure him was a good feeling, but it seemed low to fish for compliments from someone who seemed like they were struggling with their own problems.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s the job search, then?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki snorted. “Bad. I need to get a job, but to get a job I need a job. It’s bullshit. I don’t even have the experience to </span>
  <em>
    <span>get</span>
  </em>
  <span> experience.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll find something eventually,” Hajime said unhelpfully. “Everyone has to start somewhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm. Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime struggled to say something helpful. “Is it… well, is it impostor syndrome for you, too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki was aimlessly lifting and twirling the ramen noodles in the air. “I’m not exactly in a position of many accomplishments, am I? I’m fucking jobless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but… maybe you feel like you’ve only made it this far because of luck. Through high school and college, and now here to Tokyo.” Hajime looked down at the bowl of ramen. “Because that’s how I’ve been feeling about myself recently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki sighed. “I don’t even know if I deserve to feel impostor syndrome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really don’t think it’s something you deserve or don’t deserve, Makki. And that statement just then sounds a bit like what I imagine impostor syndrome is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not even a real disease.” He stabbed at the chashu pork in the soup. “Just a thing I saw online. It’s not a big deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime leaned forward. “So it’s a big deal when it comes to someone else, but not when it comes to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not a doctor, man. I took gap years and graduated late and I can’t find a damn job.” Hanamaki looked at him pointedly. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Unlike</span>
  </em>
  <span> you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime could think of nothing to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And on the topic of jobs, the time I’ve got left to stay in Tokyo is probably running out. If I don’t find a job, my parents want me to go back to Miyagi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To live with them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime took a sip of water. “What will you do there? Continue to look for a job related to computer programming?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They want me to get married, then take over the family store.” Hajime recalled that Hanamaki’s parents ran a local dry cleaning business. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Hajime had no idea if the store was still successful or not. The last time he’d seen it in person, half of the neon red letters on the sign no longer glowed. “And you don’t want to do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I don’t. Marriage is one thing, but who the hell wants to run a dry cleaners in fucking Miyagi for the rest of his life? If I’d known that I’d be doing that, I wouldn’t have gone to college at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t mean that,” Hajime said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious.” Hanamaki’s jaw was set. “It just sucks, though, because neither of my options are good. I could stay here and be unemployed and leech off of Matsukawa - which feels bad, too - or I could go back and run the damn family business. And the only solution is -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To get a job here in Tokyo,” Hajime finished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Except that’s not really working out,” Hanamaki laughed bitterly. “Plus, my parents are getting pretty old.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then who’ll run the shop?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki shrugged, but he looked troubled. “They’ll have to look for someone else, I guess. But they're still betting that I won’t find a job here, so I’ll have to go back to Miyagi and help out. With a wife I don’t have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime frowned. He was trying his best not to patronize Hanamaki, trying not to treat him like some sort of confidential patient. “How do they expect you to get a wife so quickly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Through an omiai. They have acquaintances with daughters around my age.” Hanamaki sniffed in distaste. “Like hell I’m going to marry someone I meet a couple of times, </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially</span>
  </em>
  <span> someone my parents hand picked. It’s just… I’m not okay with that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime nodded slowly. He’d known a couple of friends from medical school who had attended omiai, meetings intended for marriage, and successfully and happily married. Still, he couldn’t see Hanamaki doing it - not when Matsukawa was still in the picture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cleared his throat. “Then for your employment - do you have alumni connections? Something that can land you a job, even if it’s not ideal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll look into it.” Hanamaki leaned back in the chair, arms crossed. Something in his demeanor told Hajime that the conversation was over. He brightened up. “Now, let’s talk about you and Oikawa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, God,” Hajime muttered. “Mattsun tried to have this </span>
  <em>
    <span>exact</span>
  </em>
  <span> same conversation with me a few weeks ago. Back on your birthday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki smirked, uncrossing his arms and reaching for his chopsticks. “Did he ask if you two were gay, too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of Hajime’s wooden chopsticks clattered to the table, and the other rolled off of the table. “I - uh, what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me,” Hanamaki called out to a nearby waiter. “Could we get another set of chopsticks, please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not gay,” Hajime sputtered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bro, I’ve known you for, like, ten years now. It’s okay. You can be honest with me. And there’s nothing wrong with it, either. Love is love and all that.” He paused. “Wait, maybe I’ve got it wrong - maybe you’re bi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The waiter passed by their table and slid the chopsticks to Hajime. “Here you go, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Hajime replied weakly. He carefully broke the joined wood into individual rods and sanded off the splinters, avoiding Hanamaki’s gaze. “Did Matsukawa say something to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah,” Hanamaki said. “He just can’t keep a secret. He’s pretty obvious when it comes to stuff like this. Kind of like you, Iwaizumi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you want the truth,” Hajime said, “we’re not gay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… what I’m hearing is, Oikawa’s not, but you are?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m - I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like, you’ve never even thought about it before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime rubbed his temples. “Makki.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ever had a gay sexual awakening before? Maybe about Oikawa?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime shook his head. “Makki, we’re absolutely not having this conversation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki laughed abruptly. “Sorry, sorry. I just have a feeling that Matsukawa’s conversation with you was probably a real downer. He told you about his feelings about my relationship with him, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little,” Hajime said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki seemed to tell that Hajime was being cautious not to trample on the trust Matsukawa had placed in him. “What did he say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just that he, uh, liked you. Not really much else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Hanamaki said. He looked down at his bowl of ramen but didn’t make a move to eat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it have to do with your parents again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They don’t know about Mattsun,” he said slowly, “but they’re most definitely not okay with me dating anyone who’s not a woman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Hajime said. He hastily sipped at his water to get rid of the feeling of the lump in his throat. “But are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> okay with it? Dating a guy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki sighed. “I think - I think I am, or I could be, and that’s part of the problem. If I weren’t - if I were as shitty and homophobic as my parents - then  I could brush off Matsukawa and be okay with leeching off of Mattsun’s apartment and car and everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you don’t want to do that,” Hajime said. “Or, rather, you won’t do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to think about it.” Hanamaki picked up his chopsticks, not looking at Hajime. “It’s so easy to stay still and do nothing, but I’m done with that. We both need to think hard about what we want, don’t we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime’s mind flashed to Tooru doing something somewherein Britain, unknown to him - what even was the time difference between Japan and Britain, anyway? - and he laughed shortly. “I’m too tired to think right now, Makki. Let’s just eat.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Iwa-chan,” Tooru called. He was breathing hard, a sharp gleam in his eyes that came only with a successful serve. “Wouldn’t you say that’s a no-touch service ace?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime glanced at the mess of volleyballs on the other side of the court. “I don’t know about no-touch, but it’s probably a service ace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably?” Tooru cried, putting his hands on his hips. “Probably isn’t good enough. I want definitely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s just go home already, Shittykawa.” Hajime glanced at the clock. “You’re dead on your feet, and we’re the last ones here. We’ll have to close up the gym.” Hajime was already picking up volleyballs and gently bumping them on his forearms into the cart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just did my best serve of the day, though! This is cause for celebration. And more serves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a fluke,” Hajime said, ignoring Tooru’s loud scoff. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Iwa-chan is so mean!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve already got one of the most precise serves in the prefecture. What more do you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The best serve, hands down.” Tooru jumped up and caught the volleyball that Hajime had tried to bump into the cart. He slammed it on the floor a few times, then spun it in his hands the way he did before every serve. “And just this prefecture is too small.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime could say nothing as Tooru tossed the ball into the air. He leapt forward with a lithe grace that contrasted with the power of his serve, the smack of his hand against the volleyball cracking through the empty gym.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ball landed in the far right corner of the court. Tooru narrowed his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even after seeing Tooru’s serve up close countless times, it still struck him as beautiful, like a choreographed dance honed after hours of practice. It was different from the raw strength in the serves of Ushijima or Karasuno’s ace. The control and precision were unique to Tooru.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime watched the ball roll off into the corner. “Best serve in Japan, then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Japan is too small,” Tooru declared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime turned around. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m not even the best server in Japan.” Tooru wiped the sweat from his forehead with the hem of his white t-shirt, and Hajime’s back stiffened. “That Miya guy in Tokyo does it better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean Japan is too small?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to be better.” Tooru looked at his right hand, experimentally moving each finger. “I’ll play on an international stage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Professionally, you mean? You can do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru looked at him. “You think so? Me, the Oikawa Tooru right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Hajime said, leaning down to grab the stray volleyballs. “You can do whatever you set your mind to, right here, right now. No parallel universe bullshit that you usually spout.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’ll come with me wherever I play, right?” Tooru asked, winking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about Argentina? I’ve always wanted to play for Argentina! Oh, how does the United States sound? Or Serbia?” Tooru seemed to be thinking hard. “Britain? Morocco? Russia?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calm down,” Hajime interrupted. Reluctantly, he added, “I’ve always wanted to go to California.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great! I’ll become the best, then we’ll go traveling the world together.” Tooru swiveled around, making a motion to reach for another volleyball. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No more serves. You stretch, and I’ll clean up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just one!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said to stretch, Assikawa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru stuck his tongue out at him. As he turned away, Hajime hid his own smile.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hajime was back at his usual library seat, laptop and papers spread out on the table as he pretended to be productive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d had to evade the nosy questions of the omnipresent Ms. Nakamura, who was still asking about where that handsome physics teacher was and if he would come to the library with him soon and whether or not he was single because her niece was looking for a nice guy to date. Hajime quickly told her that Tooru was in Britain at the moment before rushing off, not deigning the last question with a response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa had said that Tooru would be gone for another three weeks before returning to Todai, but it was uncertain if he would make another trip to Britain. Hajime still hadn’t received any word from Tooru himself since their awkward and brief text exchange. Although he hated to admit it, the lack of contact with Tooru nagged at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a lingering sense of something missing every time Hajime thought about his own lifestyle. The odd feeling was heightened when he imagined Matsukawa and Hanamaki together in a two bedroom apartment or about Tooru in some indeterminable place, surrounded by academics speaking a language Hajime couldn’t even understand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted some sort of change, even negative, to the mundaneness of his own routine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Home, hospital, home. Sometimes he went to the library or cafe for a change of pace. Occasionally, a stop by the grocery store or convenience store for errands. Late night meet-ups at bars with faceless friends who drunkenly bragged or complained about jobs and marriages and relatives. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime was tired of what his teenage self might call “real life.” He was tired of being an adult, of being responsible for every single thing on his agenda, of handling matters as little as returning phone calls or scheduling apartment repairs or sending emails.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he frowned at the blur of patient reports and the next day’s cases on his laptop’s display, Hajime regretted some of his own decisions. Being a doctor was something that had to be a calling. Decades of schooling and more training to come told him that it wasn’t a casual job.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime had never been someone to struggle with burnout or impostor syndrome in the past, but as he weighed his options, he wondered if he would have chosen the same path once again. To secure his career, he’d had to turn down an internship at UC Irvine in California. He’d never studied abroad in college like he had wanted in high school; he’d never even left Japan. His life was a ladder to humble success and meaningful prestige, but he was exhausted from climbing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” He heard someone say softly. “Is that you, Iwaizumi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned in his chair to see Ito waving at him from behind a bookshelf. She was wearing casual clothes, and her hair loose around her shoulders. It struck him as unusual to see her clad in  anything other than scrubs and a white coat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he whispered as loudly as he dared, hoping that Ms. Nakamura couldn’t see him from the circulation desk. He wasn’t sure he could handle even more questions pertaining to his love life, especially about Ito. “It’s been a while, Ito.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It really has,” she agreed. “What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just brushing up for tomorrow’s patients.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ito nodded sympathetically. “I was in your shoes last year, Iwaizumi. It gets easier, believe me.” She gestured to the chair across from him. “Anyone sitting here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was clear that Hajime had no one else with him, but he appreciated her politeness. “No, go ahead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ito set a stack of medical books with glossy covers down. She caught sight of his laptop screen as she sat and scooted the chair towards the table, and her eyebrows raised. “Sorry, am I interrupting you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all.” He was grateful for the distraction. “How’s work? How have you been?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, same old. We had a pretty slow day today, which was nice. Nothing much has changed since you transferred hospitals.” Hajime noticed she was wearing dangly earrings, silvery strands that caught the light when she spoke. “By the way, how’s life at Hoshino? Must be busy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s good so far, I’m handling everything,” Hajime lied. “Are Nagisa and Takahashi doing okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, they’re both doing great.” Ito was playing with the tips of her hair. “Did you hear that Takahashi got engaged?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Engaged?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep. To be married.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Takahashi? Are we talking about the same guy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our one and only chief resident,” Ito laughed. “I had the same reaction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was dating?” Hajime recalled Takahashi bent over piles of paperwork, phone blowing up with endless notifications from nurses and residents and attending doctors. He’d never even heard Takahashi mention dating someone. “Wow. I should congratulate him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he was really secretive about it.” Ito leaned closer, lowering her voice. “For good reason, too. Most people at the hospital don’t know - I’m only telling you this because he sent out wedding invitations and I know you’re on the list - but his, uh, partner’s a guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Hajime blinked. “I guess it makes sense to get married now, around the time his workload eases up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ito tossed her hair over one shoulder. “I said, his partner’s a guy. He’s gay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I heard you the first time,” Hajime said slowly. He was disconcerted by the intensity of Ito’s gaze. “So he’s not - is he - out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only to the people on the invite list, I think. Nagisa’s known for a while but kept her mouth shut about it. I found out a while ago by chance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Hajime said. The words </span>
  <em>
    <span>kept her mouth shut about it </span>
  </em>
  <span>repeated in his head. He hated how it sounded like Takahashi’s fiance was a dirty secret in the orthopedics surgery department. “Is it really okay for you to tell me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ito pursed her lips. “I’m hoping so, just because you should have received the invite and known already. Or you’ll get it in a few days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just a little surprising, isn’t it?” Ito continued. “Like, I would never have known unless he’d told me. He doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>seem</span>
  </em>
  <span> like he’s” - she glanced around, checking the area - “gay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what’s a gay person supposed to seem like?” Hajime asked, feeling slightly sick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I don’t know.” Ito’s high-pitched laugh, which had seemed so pleasant to Hajime’s ears when they were paired at the hospital, now felt grating. “More flamboyant or something? Or maybe fashionable?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime’s jaw clenched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s not even a real wedding they’re holding for now. It’s more like a symbolic get-together. Apparently, they’ll be going out of the country after Takahashi gets a permanent job as an attending physician, so they can actually get married. Legally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He forced himself to nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a little worried what will happen to him if news gets leaked to the higher-ups, though.” Ito sighed. “He could lose his job in a heartbeat. It’s good that Nagisa’s kept quiet about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He said nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, I wanted your thoughts on it - you’re not weirded out by him, are you?” She frowned at him. “I know a lot of guys would be if they knew that they were working with someone who was looking at them… like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But I worked with you, and you asked me out</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Hajime wanted to say</span>
  <em>
    <span>. Only it seems acceptable to you because you’re a woman and I’m a man. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He cleared his throat. “Of course I’m not weirded out by it. I have no reason to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can be honest with me, Iwaizumi! I won’t tell a soul, I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m being honest.” Hajime leaned back. “I’m not weirded out. It’s essentially the same as having another straight woman in the department. There’s barely a chance that person would be interested in me, and even if they were, they’d definitely keep it professional.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I guess so,” Ito said, looking unconvinced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Besides,” Hajime added, “he was dating someone at the time, wasn’t he? He wouldn’t even be thinking about other people. Just like I wouldn’t be thinking of anyone else if I were dating someone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ito was silent for a few moments, regarding him under the dim library lights. “You know, of all the straight guys I know, you’re the most open about this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m an open guy,” Hajime said, his arms crossed rigidly in front of him and his jaw clenched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” she said, standing up. “It was really nice seeing you, Hajime, but I should get going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded stiffly. “Nice seeing you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Ito had left, the only traces of her presence were the lingering fragrance of flowers and the pounding in his head. He’d been taken aback by the news that Takahashi was gay and engaged, no less, but Ito’s comments made him feel sick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime couldn’t help but compare the reactions of Hanamaki and Ito, the support from his best friend and high school teammate versus the gossipy stereotypes from his former colleague and fellow prospective surgeon. He felt more appreciative of Hanamaki’s blunt acceptance, which had felt like prodding at the time but was infinitely preferable to Ito’s harsh judgment. While Hajime knew that she hadn’t meant to be rude, that knowledge did nothing to excuse her words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He squinted at the screen, turning the brightness down a few notches and trying not to breathe in the scent of Ito’s perfume. The endless tabs and open browser windows glared back at him. His head ached terribly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Parallel universe me better be having a hell of a good time right now,” Hajime muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hajime jammed his apartment key into the lock, gave it a halfhearted twist clockwise, and opened the front door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sight of half-unpacked boxes and scattered things greeted him. He hadn’t had the time to properly move into his new apartment, so he’d been opening boxes and grabbing only the bare necessities: clothes, toiletries, kitchen tools and utensils. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tired after his encounter with Ito on top of a long day of hospital work, Hajime tossed his bag to the side and shucked off his shoes. As he made his way to the kitchen to find something palatable to eat, he remembered his 5 AM alarm with resigned dread.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stuck the frozen meal into the microwave and jabbed a few buttons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His next thought struck him suddenly, but he knew from his own lack of surprise that it was a truth he’d long ago acknowledged. In his dark and empty apartment, where the only sounds were his own breathing and the buzz of the microwave, Hajime thought to himself: “I don’t like this universe.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i wrote nothing for a few days, and then suddenly came an outpouring of 5k words. so here it is!</p><p>i'm rewatching haikyuu now, and for some reason, kageyama is really growing on me. it's fun to see everything from the beginning again. i've always loved oikawa and iwaizumi, so no changes there.</p><p>thank you so much for reading! kudos/feedback are always appreciated x</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. ave atque vale</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“That’s called growing up, isn’t it?”</p><p>“We haven’t done much growing up, though,” Tooru said. “It’s more like growing apart.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>"ave atque vale" is a latin quote meaning "hail and farewell." it's from a poem by catullus, and it was suggested by a reader. thank you so much to bluehairedbeauty for the suggestion!</p><p>hope you enjoy this chapter! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Despite everything, life went on.</p><p>Hajime did overtime at Hoshino, seeing injuries and illnesses of all kinds day in and day out. Matsukawa remained in his cramped apartment and slaved over his novel. Hanamaki avoided his parents’ calls, dodged potential marriage meetings, and did his best to find a job. Tooru finished research papers at an internship thousands of miles away.</p><p>Life wasn’t easy or hard. It was simply routine, waking up day after day, and Hajime made do with what he had. </p><p>Sometimes, he found himself wondering how his old teammates and friends from Aoba Johsai were doing. They were to have their annual reunion soon, an informal get-together with all the old and current team members. Hajime looked forward to seeing everyone again.</p><p>After he’d quit varsity volleyball after high school and finished club sports in college, he hadn’t watched a proper match whether live or on TV. The last match he’d bought tickets for had happened to be Tooru’s last match as well; since then, he hadn’t stepped foot in a volleyball court.</p><p>He missed it the way people always miss fleeting times of days gone by. He saw the gym through rose-tinted glasses, enjoyed the smell of salonpas and sweat, relished the burn of lactic acid and the ache of bruises and the sting of a solid spike. He even liked to feel it vicariously back when he was in college watching Tooru play a string of games in his first, right before Tooru had surgery and he’d been taken off of the team.</p><p>Hajime shook his head and checked his phone notifications.</p><p>A new message from Matsukawa told him that his manuscript was finally progressing. Matsukawa said the words were suddenly coming to him, and Makki had been annoyed by just how much time he spent typing at his laptop. Hajime had never struggled with writer’s block because he’d never written anything beyond a few college scholarship essays in his life, but he celebrated with his friend.</p><p><em> What’s it about? </em> Hajime texted back. <em> How long is it? </em></p><p>
  <em> Something familiar to us, I guess? Still working on it so not sure about the length, but you’ll find out if it ever gets published lmaoo </em>
</p><p>Hajime smiled. <em> Any progress with Makki? </em></p><p>Silence, then a bare response: <em> Not really. We’re doing fine though. </em></p><p><em> Still, good work on your novel so far, Mattsun. </em> Hajime eyed the “Not really” above his message and winced. <em> Hoping I can read it soon. </em></p><p>
  <em> Lmao I’d probably die of embarrassment before that happened. Thanks anyway though. </em>
</p><p>He laughed out loud. Before he could respond, another text appeared.</p><p>
  <em> Oh yeah Oikawa’s coming back soon. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> When? </em>
</p><p>Hajime learned that Tooru’s month abroad had ended, and he was planning to take a red-eye flight that would land in Tokyo in the morning. That he was closer than ever to earning his PhD from Todai. That before he had left, Tooru had published some peer-reviewed paper in a big English journal and it was gaining traction. </p><p><em> Apparently it’s a big deal, </em> Matsukawa’s text read. <em> I tried to read it and can’t understand shit, which makes sense. </em></p><p>The texts continued, long lines of Matsukawa’s messages interspersed with occasional replies from Hajime. He scrolled up.</p><p>
  <em> I think it was about parallel universes again, he wrote it with a top expert at UCL or something. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Are you gonna go to the airport to welcome him back? Makki and I were thinking about it, you could come with us. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Because I’m a little worried about Oikawa overworking himself. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Have you heard from him yet, Iwaizumi? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Wait. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Iwaizumi. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You’ve spoken to him since we last talked about it, right? </em>
</p><p>Hajime took a deep breath.</p><p>
  <em> I have the morning shift at the hospital on the day he gets back to Japan, so I can’t come with you two. Sorry, Mattsun. </em>
</p><p>He shut off his phone and jammed it deep into his coat pocket.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Even before Hajime had graduated from high school, he’d heard that Aoba Johsai’s volleyball team reunions were legendary.</p><p>“Current members aren’t allowed to go,” an upperclassman named Mamiya told him. Mamiya was the other wing spiker on the regular team, and he held the revered position of Seijoh’s ace. He shut his locker door. “They’re alumni reunions for a reason.”</p><p>Hajime was only a first year at the time. “Then how do you know about them so well?”</p><p>“Oh, I’ve got an older brother who used to play for Seijoh. He times his visits back home with the reunions -- they’re usually some time in the summer -- so I hear about them from him. Every single year,” Mamiya leaned forward, whispering, “Coach Irihata and Mizoguchi always show up at practice <em> super </em> hungover the next day.”</p><p>“Hungover?” Hajime echoed, eyes wide.</p><p>“You’ve never had a drink before, have you?” Mamiya clucked his tongue. “Ah, the youth of first years.”</p><p>“You’re only two years older than Iwaizumi,” Nishida, another member of the team, said. “He’s a regular, too, you know. Keep looking down on him, and he’s going to be the ace sooner or later.”</p><p>Mamiya laughed. “Shut it, Nishida.”</p><p>“Just telling it like it is, man. You’re lucky the kid’s only in his first year.”</p><p>“I’m not a kid,” Hajime insisted. He stood to his full height and still felt short.</p><p>Mamiya laughed again, leaning down to pat Hajime’s head. “Doesn’t that other first year always call you Iwa-chan? Sounds like a kid’s name to me.”</p><p>Hajime frowned and ran a hand through his spiky hair. “Will you go to the reunion next year?”</p><p>“Of course, kiddo. Can’t pass up the opportunity to see the rest of these dumbasses another time. We’ll celebrate our Nationals victory and toast to Seijoh.”</p><p>Nishida closed his locker door and came over, dressed for practice but with shoes still untied. “We gotta get to Nationals before we can win it.”</p><p>“I can handle little old Shiratorizawa.” Mamiya began flexing his biceps, and Nishida hit him. “Besides, have you seen their coach? Dude’s practically ancient.”</p><p>“Washijo isn’t <em> that </em>old, idiot.”</p><p>“Well, all I’m saying is, Shiratorizawa better be prepared to get <em> crushed </em> at the qualifiers.” Mamiya grinned. “We have the best team we’ve had in years. You as libero, me as ace, Iwaizumi  on the right, that Oikawa kid as our setter. We’ve got it made. Rule the court and whatnot.”</p><p>Hajime looked at the turquoise banner rolled up and stored in the corner, imagining the words <em> Rule the Court </em> emblazoned in white. He’d looked at that banner in awe the first time he saw it, and he still felt chills seeing it displayed at matches.</p><p>Nishida rolled his eyes. “But Shiratorizawa’s team is solid this year, too. Even their first years are crazy -- that Ushijima guy can spike.”</p><p>“We can handle a first year here or there,” Mamiya said, cracking his knuckles. “Then we’ll brag about it at our reunion.”</p><p>“Come on, you like bragging more than you like winning.”</p><p>Mamiya playfully elbowed Nishida. “I’ve got school spirit, Nishida. You’re just a downer.” He turned to Hajime. So you’ll find out what the Seijoh reunion is really like in a few years, Iwaizumi. We can talk all about our victories then.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go practice.”</p><p>“Hey, hey, Nishida. Promise you won’t be too disappointed when I hog all the TV time after we win?”</p><p>“Why would I care?” Nishida hit him on the back of the head. “That’s the ace’s role, anyway.”</p><p>“Just promise!”</p><p>“I promise,” Nishida sighed. “But we have to win first.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Oh, Seijoh!” </p><p>“Seijoh!”</p><p>“Oh, Seijoh!” </p><p>“Seijoh!”</p><p>Hajime wiped the sweat from his forehead, arms and legs aching. He’d never played an official five-set match before, and the match had been ruthless. </p><p>Shiratorizawa was far stronger than Mamiya had made them out to be. Hajime had heard about their strength before, had seen videos of them playing, and thought he was prepared for their onslaught, but playing them in person was a different matter entirely.</p><p>He glanced at the scoreboard. They were down already, with only one set won compared to Shiratorizawa’s two wins. One more lost set would cause Seijoh to lose the entire match. With the score at a deuce of 27-28 in Shiratorizawa’s favor, one lost point was all Shiratorizawa would need. One mistake, one slip-up, or one misjudgment would determine the outcome after the years of practice and the countless other sets that had led up to this moment. In a few minutes, Aoba Johsai would walk away as the representatives of Miyagi Prefecture at the National tournament, or they would walk away as the unremembered runner-ups.</p><p>Mamiya shouted next to him, interrupting his thoughts. “Nice serve, Oikawa!”</p><p>Hajime clenched his jaw. There was no time to worry.</p><p>In the bleachers, the Seijoh cheer squad roared. “Let’s go, Oikawa!” </p><p>“Oikawa!” The spectators clapped, noise resounding through the stadium. “Oikawa!”</p><p>He turned around to see Tooru standing a few feet away from the white line, slamming the volleyball down hard against the floor. His eyes were narrowed as he assessed the court. The Aoba Johsai banner, with the simple white letters on turquoise and the message of “Rule the Court,” had never seemed more fitting than when someone was up to serve.</p><p>Hajime shivered. Just the look of focus on Tooru’s face was enough to intimidate other players in the Interhighs.</p><p>Across the court, Shiratorizawa’s captain yelled, “Let’s cut him off with one serve!”</p><p>“Yes!” The Shiratorizawa player behind the net barked with the others. He sneered at Hajime, who glared back.</p><p>The referee whistled, motioning for Tooru to serve, and the stadium held its breath.</p><p>Tooru did a jump serve, a perfect arc that slammed into the outstretched hands of Shiratorizawa’s libero. Hajime had known that Tooru was working on his control and precision, but the ease with which the libero received the serve tells him that nerves had gotten to Tooru.</p><p>He grounds his teeth. For any other team, it still would have been a service ace. Shiratorizawa was just too strong.</p><p>The Shiratorizawa setter positioned himself under the ball. “Ushijima!”</p><p>Hajime tensed. </p><p>Ushijima jumped into the air, left arm drawn back.</p><p>Time seemed to slow down. Hajime exhaled. Ushijima struck the ball.</p><p>And suddenly time sped up again. The ball was on the floor in the flash, slamming off of Nishida’s shoulder and far out of the court. As it bounced a few times, the referee gave the point to Shiratorizawa.</p><p>Hajime turned to his own teammates in disbelief. </p><p>Seijoh had lost the match. They weren’t going to Nationals.</p><p>He looked at Mamiya, who was staring down at his right hand. He clenched it into a fist when he noticed Hajime staring. </p><p>“Iwaizumi,” Mamiya said, voice soft. He clapped a hand on Hajime’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s line up.”</p><p>Hajime crumpled at the heaviness of Mamiya’s callused hand on his shoulder, realizing with a pang that Mamiya was in his third year. He would never play for Seijoh’s team again, he would never beat Shiratorizawa, and he would never go to Nationals. He would never brag about victory at their reunions in the future because they hadn’t been the victors. They had tried their hardest, and they’d still lost. </p><p>“Got it,” Hajime replied weakly. His eyes were watering, and he rubbed at them with the back of his hand. Mamiya wasn’t crying, so he refused to cry. He didn’t think the overwhelming defeat inside of him could compare to what Mamiya was feeling.</p><p>On the sidelines, where the local TV crew was loitering, Hajime unwittingly caught murmurs of honest conversations.</p><p>“I had my bets placed on Seijoh, to be honest… wonder what happened with them in the final set.”</p><p>“Having one talented first year setter can’t make up for an average team, can it?”</p><p>“You know, Aoba Johsai’s ace didn’t stand out much to me this year.”</p><p>Mamiya flinched, and Hajime was filled with an unfamiliar, searing combination of anger and defeat. </p><p>After all the post-match formalities had been completed, Hajime sat with Tooru in the lobby of the stadium building. They watched silent as Mamiya and the other third years beside them tried to comfort Nishida, who had been crying since the match had ended.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Nishida was saying. His eyes were red and teary, and his throat was hoarse. “I should’ve gotten that last - that last spike. Ushijima’s spike. I’m really, really sorry.” His voice cut off into a sob, and Hajime saw Mamiya look down at the floor.</p><p>“It’s not your fault, Nishida,” their captain said. “It’s okay. Really.”</p><p>Mamiya had his jaw clenched. He wasn’t looking at Nishida anymore. </p><p>Nishida sighed, wiping his eyes. The neckline of his turquoise jersey was drenched in tears and sweat. “This was <em> our </em>year, though.”</p><p>The final “<em> And now it’s over” </em> went unspoken.</p><p>“It’s okay, Nishida.” The captain said again. He smiled at them, a smile that seemed so warm and convincing and encouraging only a day before but now felt empty. “Let’s get on the bus, okay? Back home and to bed. It’s been a long day.”</p><p>“I’m so sorry,” Nishida whispered. His voice broke off. “We were supposed to go to Nationals this year..”</p><p>Mamiya’s chin lowered even further, and Hajime saw a tear hit the floor.</p><p>“Hey, Iwa-chan?” Tooru said quietly. </p><p>He looked over at Tooru, who was staring with surprising intensity at Nishida. “Yeah?”</p><p>“We lost.”</p><p>Hajime winced. “I know.”</p><p>“We never get to play an official match with them again.” </p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“Damn it.” Tooru squeezed his eyes shut. “It’s actually happening.”</p><p>Hajime’s voice felt hollow. He could feel hot tears in his eyes. “Yeah. I know.”</p><p>“Can I say something that might make you angry at me?”</p><p>Normally, Hajime might have said something akin to “you always do, usually without asking for permission.” Now, he only nodded.</p><p>“Nishida’s wrong.”</p><p>“Of course he’s wrong.” Hajime said, bewildered.</p><p>“It’s my fault we lost.” Tooru said. He seemed hesitant at first, reluctant to share whatever was on his mind, but the words spilled out with increasing speed as he continued. “I could have gotten a service ace on that last serve. I <em> should </em> have. I thought I had it, but then Shiratorizawa’s libero was right there, and it didn’t happen. And in the first few sets -- some of the tosses were too low or too close to the net, or I could have blocked a hit but didn’t time it right, or I tried to receive and it went off course, or I couldn’t connect the ball.”</p><p>Hajime opened his mouth to respond, but Tooru kept on talking. “I get to touch the ball the most, Iwa-chan. I thought we would win. I was prepared to win, and I was prepared to go to Nationals. But we lost anyway.”</p><p>“It’s not your fault,” Hajime said. “And it’s too late to have any concerns like that. The third years wouldn’t want to hear the things you’re saying.”</p><p>“I knew you would get mad at me.” Tooru didn’t sound disappointed or sad, only accepting. </p><p>“Because you said something dumb. Of course I’d get mad.”</p><p>“I’m going to get a service ace against them the next time we play,” Tooru said. “I’ll practice until I can do it.”</p><p>Hajime saw the same look of focus as he’d seen on the serve in the last set, and he smiled. “When we’re second years and when we’re third years, we’re gonna beat Shiratorizawa and go to Nationals. We have to.”</p><p>Tooru hunched over beside him and put his face in his hands. </p><p>“Not just that,” Hajime said, “we’re gonna go and we’re gonna win. And then we’ll graduate and go to that stupid Seijoh team reunion and tell Mamiya and Nishida and everyone else, and they’ll be proud of us. Of Seijoh. Because we’ll be the champions.”</p><p>Tooru’s nose scrunched up in the way that told Hajime he was trying not to cry. “You promise?”</p><p>“I promise.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Two years later, they were in the same position.</p><p>“What a shame,” someone on the side of the court commented, phone in hand. “They’re so good, but their third years don’t get to play at Nationals.”</p><p>He glanced over to see Tooru standing tall and stiff, his pale hands balled into fists. As Hajime straightened up from his bow towards the audience, he noticed Mamiya and Nishida wearing old Aoba Johsai Volleyball Club shirts. They seemed to be fighting back tears. </p><p>“Shiratorizawa’s dominated the competition for the past few years,” another spectator said. “So it looks like Seijoh never even had a chance.”</p><p>“That ace of theirs is a little short for a wing spiker, isn’t he?”</p><p>“I wonder why that setter’s with them. He would’ve had so much more luck at a stronger school.”</p><p>“Seijoh’s number 16 was too much of a loose cannon for them, I guess.”</p><p>“So Seijoh’s out… looks like it’ll be Shiratorizawa again this year. I hope they break the top eight.”</p><p>Hanamaki was crying silently on Hajime’s right, and Matsukawa was stony-faced next to him, and Tooru’s face was scrunched up next to him at the end of the line. Hajime glared down at the too-large turquoise number 4 on his jersey. He could hear the echoes of Karasuno’s laughter.</p><p>For the first time, on the court under the achingly bright lights and the clear view of his teammates and the Aoba Johsai banner with “Rule the Court” behind him, Hajime hunched over and began to cry.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Iwaizumi! Finally decided to show up, eh?”</p><p>Hajime waved at the first person he saw upon walking up to the restaurant for their annual team reunion. “Hey, it’s been a while, Mamiya.”</p><p>Mamiya waved at him with a cigarette in hand, and Hajime watched the tendrils of smoke curl up into the darkening sky. “Yeah, time flies. It’s been… ” Mamiya paused, counting in his head, “ten years since we last played together, right?”</p><p>“Ten years,” Hajime nodded. “Feels like yesterday, though.”</p><p>“It does, doesn’t it?” Mamiya flicked the ash onto the cigarette receptacle of the trash can on the corner.  You can go on in, Iwaizumi. I just stepped out for a smoke. They’re all waiting for you and Oikawa.”</p><p>“That’s okay, Oikawa’s not with me,” Hajime said.</p><p>“Really?” Mamiya took a drag on his cigarette, tapping the glowing embers onto the sidewalk and crushing them under his foot. “I thought you two were inseparable the last few times we met up.”</p><p>Hajime winced. The smell of secondhand smoke was as intoxicating as it was toxic. “Nah, I’ll just wait a moment out here with you.”</p><p>“Sure, suit yourself.”</p><p>Hajime leaned against the brick building, mirroring Mamiya’s position, and watched the hustle and bustle of the street at rush hour. “So how’s Shinobu doing?”</p><p>Mamiya brightened at the mention of his wife’s name. He’d gotten married two years ago in a small wedding in Miyagi. Hajime had been invited, but he’d had to decline because of a medical exam that day. </p><p>Thinking back, he regretted sending back “no” on the RSVP. Medical exams, no matter how expensive or significant, could be rescheduled and retaken; they were mundane and minor parts of life, even though they had seemed like the most important event in Hajime’s life at the time. But weddings of old friends couldn’t ever be repeated.</p><p>“She’s doing great.” Mamiya was smiling in a way that, despite his salt-and-pepper scruff and cigarette in hand, made him appear to Hajime like he was the revered ace of their high school once more. “Most of the others don’t know yet, but,” he winked conspiratorially, “we’re expecting right now.”</p><p>Hajime almost asked “expecting what?” before he realized his folly. Instead, he played off his wide-eyed confusion as surprise. </p><p>“Wow,” he said. “That’s, uh, wow. Congratulations.” He cleared his throat. “How far along is she?”</p><p>Mamiya beamed. “About two months, we think. She’s going to one of those check-ups tomorrow. It’s just - we’ve been trying for ages now, and I’m so - it’s big news for us.”</p><p>Hajime felt his heart swelling with some inexplicable happiness, the sense of lost youth and bliss overcome by the introduction of slow age and its joys. So he was at the age when his friends were having children, it seemed. Being stuck around bachelors like Tooru and the ever-single Matsukawa and Hanamaki, not to mention his fellow medical school friends, had kept Hajime in a bubble separate from the real world of growing families.</p><p>“Congratulations, Mamiya. I’m really happy for you both.” </p><p>“Shinobu’s already looking at baby names,” Mamiya said, rushing his words like it was a confession.</p><p>“Wow, that’s exciting. Hoping for a boy or for a girl?”</p><p>“She wants a girl, and I want what she wants. Boy or girl or whatever doesn’t matter, though -- either way, I’m gonna teach ‘em how to play volleyball. I want a whole team of kids.”</p><p>Hajime laughed. It was unusual but not at all bad seeing Mamiya so happy about something, especially when the last concrete memory Hajime had of him was his tears after defeat in the last match of Hajime’s first year. </p><p>“Hey, Mamiya, would you invite me to your baby shower? If you end up having one?”</p><p>“‘Course you’ll be invited,” Mamiya said, jabbing the cigarette butt into the receptacle. He pressed it hard. “And we’re having one for sure. I gotta go all out for Shinobu.”</p><p>Hajime nodded. He was grateful to have something for which he could RSVP “yes, I’ll be attending” and catch up with old friends before they got even older, something for which he could reschedule an orthopedics meeting or a skip a surgery observation, something that could begin to make up for missing Mamiya’s wedding and so many other things for other friends.</p><p>“And you’ll be invited to all the other baby showers that Shinobu and I’ll have in the future.” Mamiya had new wrinkles when he smiled, ones that seemed to deepen and grow with every year Hajime didn’t see him. Hajime wondered if his underclassmen thought the same when they looked at him. </p><p>Hajime smiled. “Six total for a whole volleyball team of kids?”</p><p>“That’s right, Iwaizumi.” The wrinkles on Mamiya’s face and the scruff under his smile somehow made Hajime’s chest tighten. “So in exchange, you gotta invite me whenever you get married, whoever the lucky lady happens to be. Deal?”</p><p>Hajime thought of Tooru’s smiling face and long pale ring finger, about Matsukawa looking at Hanamaki, about Ito’s face when she said Takahashi was getting married outside of the country.</p><p>“Deal,” he said, hoping his smile looked sincere.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Iwaizumi! Is that really you?”</p><p>Hajime was greeted by roars of laughter, the raucous atmosphere of years and years of Aoba Johsai Volleyball Club alumni gathered together in one small space. “Hey, guys. It’s good to see everyone.”</p><p>Matsukawa handed him a beer, smiling as Hajime settled into a seat among his old teammates. “Late as usual.”</p><p>“Not the latest, though,” Hajime said. “And I can’t drink today, gotta drive home later.” </p><p>“Right, right. I should’ve known, I’m in the same shoes as you.”</p><p>Hajime lowered his voice, leaning in. “Oikawa here yet?”</p><p>“Not yet. His flight landed this morning, so I’m guessing he’s still not over his jet lag yet or he’s still on the way. He should be here soon, though.” </p><p>“Do you think he timed it on purpose?”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>Hajime shifted awkwardly under his friend’s thoughtful gaze. “Coming back in time for our reunion.”</p><p>Matsukawa looked around the room, a separate area of the restaurants made for large parties of people. “I think he would. He’s never missed one before.” He tapped his short nails against the table, a habit that Hajime remembered from high school. “Oikawa really cares about this team, even after so long, right?”</p><p>“It hasn’t been <em> that </em>long,” Hajime said, glancing at Coach Irihata’s graying hairs. </p><p>Mastukawa scoffed. “I’d say eight years is a pretty long time, though. Even if it feels like yesterday we were playing volleyball at Seijoh. ”</p><p>Hajime nodded and took a sip of his drink, looking around at the faces of his old friends. He’d thought that he wouldn’t recall what they looked like eight years ago when they were still in high school, but despite seeing them in person at least once a year, he seemed to remember their past appearances more clearly than he could see their current ones. Most of the seats were filled, tables of Seijoh volleyball players fresh out of high school and unfamiliar to Hajime.</p><p>“Heard you’re a doctor now,” Kindaichi said, leaning across the table to get Hajime’s attention. </p><p>“Yeah, in Tokyo.”</p><p>A chorus of “ooh, Dr. Iwaizumi!” and boisterous laughter arose around their section of the table. Hajime got a few hard claps on the back as they toasted him.</p><p>“What kind? Let me guess -- something to do with sports, right? Do they have sports doctors?”</p><p>“I’m an orthopedic surgeon,” Hajime said, wincing at how pretentious he sounded. “So, yeah, a sports doctor.”</p><p>Kindaichi nodded. “Well, are you rich yet, Iwaizumi?”</p><p>“This guy still has thousands in student loans left to pay back,” Hanamaki cackled beside Matsukawa, waving his hand at Kindaichi. “Barely even has the time to text me back anymore.”</p><p>“What have you guys been up to?” Hajime cut in.</p><p>“Oh, I’m an electrician here.”</p><p>“Cool. How about the other second years?”</p><p>“Second years,” Hanamaki muttered under his breath. “We graduated so damn long ago, and you still call them that.”</p><p>“Kyoutani couldn’t make it because of a last-minute practice game he’s playing in, but Kunimi finally came to one of our reunions,” Kindaichi piped up, nudging Kunimi in the side. “Got permission from his boss.”</p><p>Kunimi nodded. “So don’t make me regret coming.”</p><p>“You’re working?” Hajime asked. “I thought you were still in college, Kunimi.”</p><p>“Uh, I graduated a while ago.”</p><p>“Oh. Congrats, then.”</p><p>“Like three years ago,” Kunimi said, looking amused. “But thanks.”</p><p>“Iwaizumi sounds like an old man who’s still stuck on his high school years,” Matsukawa said with a wry smile.</p><p>“What?” Hajime leaned back. “No, I don’t.”</p><p>“He peaked in high school,” Matsukawa said solemnly, hiding his laughter.</p><p>“Hey, at least he has a job,” Kunimi pointed out. Since Hanamaki had graduated from college and finished his gap years, his woes of unemployment had been well-documented in their Seijoh team groupchat. They’d never failed to make fun of him when given the opportunity.</p><p>“Actually,” Matsukawa said, raising his glass of water, “our very own Hanamaki Takahiro found out today that he does indeed have a job.”</p><p>“Whoa, what? Congratulations!”</p><p>“This goes against <em> everything </em>I’ve known about Hanamaki.”</p><p>“Wow, what job? Is it in Tokyo?” Watari raised his drink.</p><p>“Nice, Makki!” Hajime clapped him on the back. “That’s the best news.”</p><p>“Thanks, guys.” Hanamaki was smiling, the happiest expression Hajime had seen on him in months. “I’m going to be a programmer for Mitsubishi Electric, so I’ll be staying in Tokyo. Not coming back to Miyagi, sorry.”</p><p>Kindaichi clinked his glass on Hanamaki’s. “Pretty cool how all of the third years get to stay in Tokyo together. Do you guys hang out often? If I were there with my teammates, I’d wanna meet up all the time.”</p><p>Hanamaki laughed nervously, eyes darting to Matsukawa. “Actually, Mattsun and I are living together. Iwaizumi and Oikawa live pretty close by, too.”</p><p>“Living together?” Yahaba said. “Is it ever, uh, awkward when either of you bring girls over?”</p><p>Matsukawa’s lips were pressed in a thin line. </p><p>Hanamaki laughed again, more agitated this time, and set down his drink. “No, it’s never, uh, never that awkward. And now that I have a job, I’ll be out of the apartment more often. So Mattsun’s free to bring whoever he wants back.”</p><p>Matsukawa wordlessly looked down at the table. Hajime coughed.</p><p>“Hey, Makki-chan,” came a startlingly familiar voice, lilting and teasing, one that Hajime had replayed in his head so many times that it had become impossible to forget (of course, though, the real thing sounded more melodic than he’d remembered). </p><p>The door to the private room slid shut with a click, and Hajime felt the hairs on his arm rise. “What’s this about a job and staying in Tokyo?”</p><p>Hajime turned around slowly. The sound of his heartbeat suddenly felt magnified.</p><p>Kindaichi got up, waving his hand at someone behind Hajime. “Hey, Oikawa! You made it!” </p><p>“And the star of the show arrives,” Watari laughed. “Pretty damn late, though.”</p><p>Yahaba was patting the seat next to him for Tooru to sit down. “I saw the news, Oikawa! How was London?”</p><p>“Good, it was good! Rainy for most of it, though. Not that I spent much time outside.”</p><p>“Stuck inside doing research?”</p><p>“Mhm. You guys already ordered?”</p><p>“Yeah, Matsukawa and Hanamaki ordered for you -- oh, Hanamaki was talking about how he’s got a job at Mitsubishi in Tokyo. Anyway, you’re doing some physics shit still, right?”</p><p>“Who knew Oikawa could devote part of his brain to something other than volleyball?”</p><p>“The glasses <em> do </em>make him look like a real nerd.”</p><p>“That’s mean!” Tooru’s hand went dramatically to his heart, and Hajime was taken aback by how similar he seemed to the high school Oikawa Tooru that Hajime remembered. “How can that be the first thing you say to your beloved upperclassman? I bet you all secretly missed me, right?”</p><p>“Iwaizumi did, I think,” Kunimi said. “The rest of us couldn’t really care less.”</p><p>Tooru’s eyes widened slightly before he laughed it off, sliding into the seat beside Yahaba. “Well, I’m here now. Iwa-chan and the rest of you have no reason to feel sad anymore.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Hajime said, unable to come up with a proper retort. He thought of Mamiya’s expression when talking about Shinobu and his vague mentions of marriage and love. </p><p>Love.</p><p>Hajime tried in vain to ignore the breathlessness in his voice and the weightlessness in his chest from seeing Tooru’s face after so long, wondering if Tooru felt the same strange symptoms  - the tachycardia, the heartache, the twitch in his hands. As he looked upon Tooru’s smiling face, surrounded by their old teammates of years gone by, he realized that he was hopelessly, desperately in love.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Evenings in Miyagi were colder than the ones in Tokyo, and Hajime shivered when he finally left the restaurant with his former teammates around him.</p><p>“So all the old third years have to head back to Tokyo, right?”</p><p>“Man, that’s gonna be such a long drive. Careful on your way back, okay?”</p><p>“Right, and Hanamaki’s leaving with me,” Matsukawa said. “We’re taking Minnie.”</p><p>“That thing is tiny,” Kindaichi laughed. </p><p>“I’ve got my own car,” Hajime said, pulling out his keys. “So I won’t be carpooling.”</p><p>“Hey, Iwaizumi, come here,” Matsukawa said, pulling him to the side as everyone began saying their goodbyes for the year. </p><p>Hajime was afraid he already knew what Matsukawa was going to ask. “Yeah?” </p><p>“I’ve got a question -- do you think you can take Oikawa home for today?”</p><p>“Oh, uh, I don’t know about that,” Hajime said. “I know your car is pretty cramped, but, uh…”</p><p>“Come on, Iwaizumi, it’s not about Minnie.”</p><p>“Oikawa and I haven’t really talked in a while. It’d be awkward for me and him.”</p><p>“But I think this is a good opportunity for you two, Iwaizumi.”</p><p>“An opportunity,” he echoed flatly. “For what?”</p><p>“Talking things out. It’s long, long overdue, and what better time than the present?”</p><p>Hajime sighed.</p><p>“I want to talk things over with Hanamaki, just us two, now that he’s got a job and everything. I don’t think Oikawa wants to be part of that conversation.”</p><p>“About living together in Tokyo, you mean?”</p><p>“About more than living together.” Matsukawa looked over at Hanamaki, who was trying to open the passenger seat’s door. “So, you think you can do me this favor? For me and for you?”</p><p>Hajime saw Tooru laughing at something Yahaba had said, his hands shoved into his heavy coat pockets. “Fine,” he said. “But just to be clear, I’m doing this for you, not for me.”</p><p>“It’s okay, Oikawa lives really close to your new apartment. I don’t feel too bad about wasting your time.”</p><p>“That’s not really the problem,” Hajime tried to say, but Matsukawa was already waving Tooru over.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The drive had passed in relative silence; the only sounds in the car were the loud beat of Hajime’s heart and the noise of late-night traffic. He had turned on the radio to some mainstream pop songs that he’d thought Tooru might enjoy, but Tooru simply sat facing the window without the usual humming or singing.</p><p>Not that Hajime knew what was usual anymore -- Tooru had seemed so close and familiar during the reunion, but now he felt once again like a stranger.</p><p>Hajime wasn’t sure why Tooru was so quiet, why he wasn’t even putting on a pretense of friendliness like he had for the other Seijoh teammates.</p><p>“Hey,” he said as they neared the outer districts of Tokyo. “Can you put your address in the map of my phone?”</p><p>“Oh, sure.” Tooru leaned over to grab the phone.</p><p>Hajime had been about to use his fingerprint to unlock it, but he felt oddly wary of reaching over to Tooru. “The password’s 2007.”</p><p>Tooru’s breath hitched, and he stopped tapping the phone. “Twenty-oh-seven?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Hajime said, “it’s been my password forever. I don’t know why it’s that year in particular, though. Not much happened in 2007.”</p><p>Tooru nodded, typed in his address, and passed the phone back. As Hajime followed the app’s directions, he realized that he and Tooru lived only fifteen minutes from each other, the same distance they’d been when they were back in high school.</p><p>“So how was your internship in London?” Hajime asked awkwardly, eager to continue the conversation now that he’d finally gotten Tooru to speak.</p><p>“It was more like a sabbatical than an internship. I did some guest lectures and helped out one of their professors with research.”</p><p>Hajime nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. “What’d you research?”</p><p>“Parallel universe theory and quantum physics,” Tooru laughed softly. “Not your best subject, right, Iwa-chan?”</p><p>“Definitely not. But tell me more about, uh, parallel universes. And quantum physics.”</p><p>“Oh, it’s just the same stuff I used to talk about, only with a lot more math.”</p><p>“Like parallel universes where you’re not a physicist.”</p><p>“And universes where I don’t exist, too.” Tooru hummed along to the bright song on the radio, and Hajime’s heart clenched. “Remember when we used to talk about not doing volleyball or playing different positions? Now we’re talking about jobs and existence.”</p><p>“That’s called growing up, isn’t it?”</p><p>“We haven’t done much growing up, though,” Tooru said. “It’s more like growing apart.”</p><p>Hajime’s hand twitched on the steering wheel, but before he could speak, Tooru had already changed the subject. “Well, parallel universes aren’t a very widely researched topic, at least not in actual academia. It’s like a science fiction idea. No one at Todai does much work on it.”</p><p>“So that’s why you had to go to London?”</p><p>“Mhm. UCL has a leading expert I wanted to meet.”</p><p>“Oh. The timing of it…” Hajime swallowed roughly. “When you left, I thought it was something I did.”</p><p>“You didn’t do anything at all. It was just a coincidence.” </p><p>He saw Tooru look at him, but he stared straight ahead at the car in front of them. “That’s good to hear, I guess.”</p><p>“Hey, just a random thought -- do you remember Hayashi Masaru?”</p><p>“Hayashi Masaru,” Hajime mused. “The name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.”</p><p>“He used to go to Seijoh, then he became a professional setter for some team in Australia. Remember when he visited us at practice?”</p><p><em> Us </em>. The word sounded nice on Tooru’s lips. </p><p>“Yeah, I remember,” Hajime lied. He remembered old alumni visiting, but the people who actually came had been long forgotten. This Hayashi Masaru person was no different.</p><p>“He was 26 when he visited,” Tooru said, turning to look out the window again. “The same age we are now.”</p><p>“You think he came to Aoba Johsai reunions back when he was 26, like we do now? Mamiya's already 29, and he still comes.”</p><p>“Probably. I’ve just been thinking about it recently. We thought he was so old, and now we’re 26, too.”</p><p>“26 isn’t old.”</p><p>“It’s not,” Tooru agreed. “But a lot changes between ages 18 and 26.”</p><p>“Matsukawa’s birthday is coming up, so he’ll be 27 soon.”</p><p>“And then you’ll be 27 in June, and me in July.”</p><p>“July 20th, right?”</p><p>“You still remember my birthday,” Tooru sounded satisfied. “I’d thought you’d forgotten it.”</p><p>“I wished you a happy birthday last year, didn’t I? I never miss it.”</p><p>“That’s not why I thought you forgot.” He sighed. “July 20th, Iwa-chan. The seventh month of the year.”</p><p>“So?” Hajime asked, confused. </p><p>“The twentieth of the seventh month,” Tooru said forcefully. “What did you say your password was again?”</p><p>“2007,” Hajime said. “Hold on… you’re saying my password is your birthday? When you write it out like a date?”</p><p>Tooru’s head was turned so that Hajime couldn’t see his expression in the reflection of the window. “Isn’t it?”</p><p>Hajime took a hand off of the wheel and rubbed his temples. “It might have been, I guess. I don’t remember. Maybe my birthday was too obvious, so I went with yours.”</p><p>“And why mine?” Tooru’s voice held an unusual urgency.</p><p>“Just, I don’t know, because we were friends back then?” Hajime winced at the words <em> back then </em>. “Because we’re friends. Twenty-oh-seven, two-thousand seven, it’s all the same.”</p><p>“It’s not all the same, Iwa-chan.”</p><p>Hajime’s heart was pounding so loudly that he was somehow afraid that Tooru would hear it. “It doesn't mean anything else.”</p><p>Tooru turned to face him suddenly, brown hair that was slightly longer than his high school hairstyle swishing as he moved. His glasses flashed in the dim light filtering through the car windows. “You’re lying to yourself, Iwa-chan.”</p><p>“Don’t call me Iwa-chan if you’re going to accuse me of lying,” Hajime said, pressing on the accelerator.</p><p>“What do you want me to call you? Iwaizumi? Hajime?”</p><p>“Stop it, Oikawa. You’re drunk right now, you don’t know what you’re saying”</p><p>“I’m not drunk, Hajime.”</p><p>Hajime flinched at the sound of his first name. When he glanced at Tooru, he was startled by the intensity of his gaze. There was no fury or sadness in his eyes, no furrowed eyebrows or scrunched nose, only the look of someone who was trying to land a powerful service ace or solve a particularly hard physics problem. </p><p>A look that only Tooru had, Hajime knew. The one that meant he was going to stop at nothing to achieve what he wanted.</p><p>“The password’s just a password, Oikawa.”</p><p>“I think it means more than that. I know I’m right, I’ve known it forever. You think you’re the only one running away from your feelings?”</p><p>Hajime coughed. “What?”</p><p>“Hajime,” Tooru said again, and it sounded more <em> right </em> in his voice than in the tone of anyone who had ever said his name before. “Remember us in Tokyo on March 29th, 2012?”</p><p>Another “<em> Us </em>.”</p><p>“You’re asking me to do a lot of remembering right now,” Hajime said, stopping at a red light but refusing to meet Tooru’s gaze.</p><p>“But you do remember,” Tooru said.</p><p>“I already told you what I thought. You can’t give me a random date and place from years ago and expect me to know everything about it.” The malice in his own voice surprised him.</p><p>“That’s the day you were going to confess to someone, wasn’t it?”</p><p>The traffic light turned green. A car honked behind them when Hajime didn’t move.</p><p>“I found roses in a bag in your room. I still remember it. You were planning to confess to me, and I fucked it all up that day and didn’t know how to fix it.”</p><p>“Oikawa,” Hajime said, “what-”</p><p>“No, don’t you dare tell me I’m wrong. I told you, I know I’m right. I’ve known you for years, and I’ve had so long to think about this -- to think about <em> us </em> -- and it’s not fair to you that I’ve kept it all to myself all this time, but I’m telling you everything now, so <em> listen up</em>.”</p><p>Hajime stopped outside a nondescript apartment building just as his phone announced, “You have arrived at your destination.”</p><p>“We’re here, Oikawa,” Hajime said, unlocking the doors.</p><p>Tooru was almost pleading now, and it was so uncharacteristic that it unnerved Hajime. “Look at me, Hajime. You’re in love with me, right? Since that day in 2012.”</p><p>“Don’t. Please don’t. Just get out of the car, Oikawa. You’re drunk.”</p><p>“You want to know why I went to London?” Tooru asked, voice low. “I went because I couldn’t stand being in Japan anymore, not when everything reminded me of you. I needed to get away from all of that because it was driving me crazy -- thinking of you every moment I could, wondering if things could have been different, not knowing if you still loved me or not. I spent all my time in the world alone, wishing I was with you but not knowing how.”</p><p>“And did it work?” Hajime asked despite himself.</p><p>“No,” Tooru said softly. “It doesn’t matter where I am. Even when I’m thousands of miles away, I still think of you.”</p><p>Hajime shook his head, half in disbelief and half in denial. “Oikawa, don’t.”</p><p>“I thought you didn’t love me, but I think you do. It’s the logical thing based on everything that’s happened between us so far.”</p><p>“The <em> logical </em>thing?” Hajime ground out, pressing the unlock button again. His mind flashed to Ito talking about Takahashi for the umpteenth time, the curl of her lips as she laughed at Takahashi in love. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”</p><p>“You love me.” Tooru nodded. “That’s the most likely outcome. You love me, still, in this universe. And I love you, too.”</p><p>“Get out,” Hajime said, eyes closed and heart hurting.</p><p>“You don’t have anything else to say to me?” Tooru’s voice sounded desperate now, and each word felt like the prickle of a thorn in Hajime’s skin. “Was I right about you loving me?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Hajime said, unsure of which question he was responding to. “I have to work tomorrow. Goodnight, Oikawa.”</p><p>The door clicked open, and Tooru sighed. “Don’t pretend that this didn’t happen today, okay? Don’t act like the coward I’ve been for the past few years.”</p><p>When Tooru left the car and headed into his apartment under the dark Tokyo sky, he took a part of Hajime’s heart with him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>a 7k monster of an update (compared to my usual standards) just because i feel bad i got off my weekly schedule again. i'm about to get VERY busy, so updates might be bimonthly or even more infrequent :( still, i'm determined to finish this, and i hope you guys enjoy it so far!</p><p>sorry that this might count as more than "light angst." apparently i can't write an iwaoi fic without including seijoh losing some way or another and an angsty scene in the car (see: drowning in you).<br/>thank you so much for reading!!! feedback means the world to me xx</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. amor vincit omnia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Four levels of the multiverse, four of us.” Tooru smiled as he stood. “What a coincidence, right?”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>"amor vincit omnia" is a latin quote from virgil's eclogues meaning "love conquers all."</p><p>hope you enjoy this chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hi, Iwa-chan! Are you busy right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oikawa, hey.” Hajime closed his locker, turning to see Tooru’s grinning face. Tooru had a physics textbook tucked under one arm and a wicker basket with flowers in the other, his bag slung over one shoulder. “You want to go home together?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hallways were nearly empty as people filtered from their classrooms to clubs. Tooru leaned against the lockers. “I was wondering,” he said, winking coquettishly, “if you wanted to go on a picnic with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell? No.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru waved the picnic basket at him. “It’s not like you have anything else to do right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m tired, so I’m going home.” It wasn’t often that the gym was closed for repairs, so Coach Irihata had given them a day off from practice. Hajime planned to make full use of his time. “You can go on a picnic on your own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Wait!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime was already two classrooms down when he felt Tooru grasp him by the hand and pull him to the side of the hallway. </span>
</p><p><span>“I was supposed</span> <span>to go on my picnic with Aya-chan as an apology gift, but that didn’t really work out.” Tooru looked down at the basket, sifting through its contents. “I prepared everything already, you know.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“Why’s she mad?” Hajime’s voice was weary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I may have accidentally flirted with Fumi-chan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>accidentally</span>
  </em>
  <span> flirt with someone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It just happens sometimes, okay?” Tooru winked. “I can’t help my charm. It’s a natural part of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Accident, my ass,” Hajime muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I even got flowers for Aya-chan before school -- it’s, um, purple hyacinths for forgiveness and regret, Peruvian lilies for devotion, and red roses for love. Victorian flower language and everything. Makki told me that girls like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wonderful,” he said. “Very… unique. But I seriously doubt that love advice from Hanamaki is gonna get you anywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, it’s eclectic and a little ugly, but I had good intentions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She didn’t like it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Aya-chan didn’t really get a good chance to see the bouquet. She had an allergic reaction and had to go home early.” Tooru rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. “Which is why I need a new picnic partner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime shook his head. “You’re an awful boyfriend.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru paused, looking down at the bouquet. “I’m an ex-boyfriend now. She dumped me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so your ex-girlfriend has good judgment.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru stuck out his tongue. “My point is that I can’t go with her, so I figured you’re my next best option. Please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime shook his head, hiking his backpack higher on his shoulders. “Guess you’ll have to find your third best option.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I packed all the foods you and I like, though.” Tooru set the basket on the ground and frantically began to pick out tupperware containers, laying them around him until he was surrounded by a ring of snacks and containers and a picnic blanket. “We’ve got sandwiches, onigiri, milk bread, edamame, watermelon, and there’s an ice cream place by the park with really good chocolate chip cookie dough that I have coupons for.” He looked up. “Come with me, please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you wanted to go with your girlfriend,” Hajime said, kneeling down to repack the basket. The food had all been prepared with care, watermelon diced into neat cubes and clumsily formed onigiri. “Why’d you pack things I like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I don’t really know what she likes.” Tooru waved the milk bread. “This was all stuff I made this morning. The foods you like are the only things I know how to make.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime’s hand stopped on the container of rice balls. “When’d you get so good at making onigiri?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like them? So you’ll come on the picnic, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, go ask Fumi or Yumi or whoever first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think Fumi likes me very much.” He stood up with Hajime. “I don’t want to go with someone who doesn’t like me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fumi must have good judgment, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru laughed good-naturedly, bumping the picnic basket against his side. “Come on, Iwa-chan. It’ll be so much more fun than staying home. You’ll get good food and good company.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t tired after a whole day of exams?” Hajime asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope, not if I’m with you. And hanging out with me is energizing, right? I’m like your charger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime rolled his eyes, but he looped his arm through the handle of the basket and gently pulled it out of Tooru’s grasp, their wrists bumping against each other in the process. He waved it in the air and gestured for Tooru to come with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hurry up, Shittykawa. We’ve got a picnic to set up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru skipped to catch up, laughing. “I knew you’d say yes to me, Iwa-chan. You always do.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>For the next few weeks after the reunion, after he’d said no to Tooru, Hajime didn't hear from anyone he’d known from Aoba Johsai. It was an odd feeling -- he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been out of touch with Matsukawa and Hanamaki, and being able to focus all of his time on his hospital residency was constraining in its own way. The thought that no one knew what he was up to every day, that no one cared to ask, made him feel at once free but terribly lonely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt like a bad son for not stopping by his parent’s place while in Miyagi, but he’d made some excuse about his tight work schedule to his mother, and she hadn’t made a big fuss about him not visiting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone keeps on asking us about you and Tooru, you know,” his mother said over the phone. “Asking us how you two got into such good schools in the city.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime had his phone on speaker mode, set on the counter away from the stove as he cooked. “It’s been ages since then, Mom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still, no one thought you two would grow up to be so successful. I thought there was a mix-up when you got your acceptance letter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember, yeah. You made me call them to make sure I wasn’t supposed to get rejected.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s right, that’s the story I always tell the neighbors when they ask. It can’t have been luck that you got into med school, though, can it? And the other day, I saw Tooru in the news! Our very own Tooru!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve both got good genes, I guess,” he added, mostly to lift up her mood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed fondly. “So how are Mattsun and Makki doing? I heard from Mrs. Hanamaki that her son found a job, is that right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he’s employed now, which is really great.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what about Mattsun? Still dawdling around?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s working on his book,” Hajime said. “He’s free to do whatever he wants, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This book is taking forever.” Her tone was disapproving. “I’m glad you chose a reasonable profession, Hajime. Med school takes forever, but Matsukawa’s gap years and writing have taken even longer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed. “Mom, don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, why haven’t I heard about any girlfriends? None of you boys are dating recently. You’re going to give me some grandchildren before I die, aren’t you? I’m not getting any younger here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>got my first actual job.” He turned down the heat of the stove, setting the spatula aside. “Like you said, med school takes forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gasped over the line. “Hajime, does that mean you have a girlfriend now? Oh my, is she a doctor, too? When can I meet her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no girlfriend,” he said quickly. “No one. Not at all. None.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, it’s good to focus on your career, but you can’t put off love forever. Love’s not something you hide from.” His mother tutted. “When you realize you’ve met the one for you, you have to go get her. People don’t stick around forever. And you’re going to be an old bachelor before you know it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m still young. I’ve got time,” he said, unsettled by her words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t run from love, Hajime,” she lectured him. “No matter how far away you are or how long it’s been. You’ll learn that eventually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought of Tooru’s words from that night in Miyagi: </span>
  <em>
    <span>It doesn’t matter where I am. Even when I’m thousands of miles away, I still think of you. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He wondered if Matsukawa, during his gap years spent traveling abroad and far away from Hanamaki, had felt the same way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother dropped the topic not long after, opting instead to gossip about her former coworkers and what they had been up to. The call went on like that, with a quick hello and goodbye from his father towards the end of a half hour of nagging and chatting. Hajime ended the conversation with his head pounding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ate the bland dinner of fried rice with steamed vegetables, sitting alone at his kitchen table and thinking about things like sodium and cholesterol levels. He’d never been a great cook, and while he’d been one to meal prep in the past, residency left him so drained that he couldn’t plan his grocery shopping or cooking. Most of his meals were eaten at the hospital, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime craved something simple like onigiri -- though he’d never been someone who was good at forming the clumps of rice, and his rice balls always fell apart -- something made by someone for another person, a food made with love and tender care. He’d frequented Onigiri Miya in the past, occasionally chatting with the guy who owned the store and played volleyball in the past, but his new job was far away from the nearest restaurant. The homemade quality of onigiri eaten on a park bench after school was something he longed for, but he knew that he’d again never experience it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The steamed vegetables were flavorless in his mouth as he ate mechanically. When the doorbell rang, he sighed and set down his chopsticks </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One moment,” Hajime called, hoping it was only the old lady next door asking him to kill a bug for her. He hadn’t ordered any packages recently, none that he could remember.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa was standing behind the door. He held his laptop in one hand, an unfamiliar pair of glasses pushed haphazardly onto his forehead, and he lit up when he saw Hajime.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Iwaizumi, hey, thank God you’re home right now. ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime opened the door wider, gesturing for him to come inside. “What’re you doing here? Something going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I needed to talk with you about something in person.” Matsukawa looked around the barren living room and settled for the beat-up couch in the corner. “Also, Takahiro -- uh, Makki -- kicked me out of the apartment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got kicked out of your own apartment?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa moved his glasses down from his forehead. “Since he got a job, Makki’s decided to stay in Tokyo with me. We’re splitting the rent. It’s our apartment now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but you still got kicked out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not in a bad way, I’ll tell you why later. He and I are okay now. More than okay, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Hajime lingered at the kitchen table. His apartment was small enough that they were only a few feet away from each other. Matsukawa’s expression told him that things had changed since the night of the reunion. “It’s good that you’re on better terms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re a lot better now,” Matsukawa said. “After that day, he told me that he hadn’t been seeing anyone for a while, and he’s open to -- well, to dating me. I guess living together and being around me all the time made him think like that, but I won’t complain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime nodded, relieved. He wanted to make a bigger deal out of it, but it was still awkward news to learn that two friends of their group of four were dating. “Congrats, man. That’s awesome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I only realized I liked him a while ago, so it’s not like it’s been since high school or anything.” Matsukawa had deep dimples in his cheeks, and Hajime found his smile contagious. “But it’s always nice when your feelings are reciprocated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is,” Hajime said. “I’m really happy for you and Makki. You guys are good for each other.” His mind whirled to get-togethers and lunches with friends, the four of them sitting across from each other and talking casually like they did in high school. Iwaizumi and Oikawa, Matsukawa and Hanamaki. Aoba Johsai Volleyball Club’s numbers 1, 2, 3, and 4. He couldn’t imagine it anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t want labels, so we’re just sort of ‘together’ for now. I’m fine with starting off slow, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not boyfriends yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa shook his head. “That might be out of his comfort zone. He’s being really cautious right now, so I have to respect that. I don’t want to do anything he doesn’t like. It’s more like we’re friends who mutually like each other, not really dating.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So Makki’s getting used to it still,” Hajime said. “Well, I’m rooting for you two. Even if he kicked you out of your apartment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa laughed, the dimples reappearing. “Yeah, that’s what I came here to tell you about.” He glanced at his watch. “Hold on, are you busy right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime glanced at his bag in the corner of the living room, thinking about all of the reports he had to read up on before the next day. “Not really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This might take a while, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s okay. You want water or tea or something? I’d offer a beer, but you probably drove here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Water’s good, thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime set down a glass of water by Matsukawa, then took his own seat at the kitchen table. “Alright, Mattsun, what’s up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fidgeted with his glasses. “I sent my manuscript to a publishing company, and they liked it. We’re in the process of doing the contract now, so if everything goes well, then it’ll take about a year until my book is published.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s - that’s amazing!” Hajime exclaimed. “Wow. First Hanamaki, now this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All good things come to those who wait,” Matsukawa intoned before his expression broke into a grin. “I can’t believe it, either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My friend, the published author… wow. Your dream is coming true, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The white laptop screen reflected in the lens of Matsukawa’s glasses. “Yeah, I guess so. I wanted to be a writer. Being published and recognized, that’s even better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll buy all your books,” Hajime promised. “You’ll be on the bestseller list just because of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed, shaking his head. “Aren’t you going to ask me what my book’s about before you buy out all the bookstores?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, so you can tell me that it’s a secret for the fifth time in a row?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll tell you for real this time, smartass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime leaned back in his chair. “It’s the same book you’ve been writing all this time, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same book,” Matsukawa nodded. “And there’s a reason I’m showing it to you like this, all weird and private and in person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He straightened up. “Holy shit, am </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> in it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sort of, yeah. I made a character based on you.” Matsukawa looked back down at his laptop. “One for each of us -- you, me, Makki, Oikawa.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime’s mouth felt dry. He realized he was unconsciously holding his breath. “And what happens with the characters?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it might be easier to show you,” Matsukawa said, sliding the laptop towards him.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t it nice that all four of us are in a line? We’re like the beginning of an arithmetic series.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Makki-chan, don’t you pay attention? That’s basic math.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oi, some of us aren’t in multivariable calculus, Shittykawa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he should still know what an arithmetic sequence is. Everyone should know what an arithmetic sequence is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki laughed, taking a sip from his water bottle. “Who the hell is thinking about math? We’re about to play a practice match.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa shushed them. “What do you mean, Oikawa?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, the four of us -- the third years.” Tooru pointed his finger between himself, Matsukawa, Hanamaki, and Hajime. They were seated on the floor of the gym, drinking water and waiting for warm-ups to begin. “1, 2, 3, 4,” he sang, waving his fingers like he was conducting an orchestra. “They’re all good numbers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good numbers?” Hajime asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, a number that feels good. Magical.” To Tooru’s right, Matsukawa nodded knowingly. “See, Mattsun gets it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime shook his head. “It’s not like we were assigned by random chance. 1 is for captains and 4 is for aces.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Mattsun and I fill in numbers 2 and 3, obviously. Third years stick together.” Hanamaki capped his water bottle. “No magic or anything about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop raining on my parade, Makki-chan!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, maybe when you start making sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“1 is the best,” Tooru declared. His head was tilted up towards the ceiling, and he tapped his chin with his index finger. “It’s a constant for a reason. The first natural number, the first positive integer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh God, more math.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But 2 is boring,” Matsukawa laughed, pointing to his own jersey. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, 2’s a prime number,” Hajime said. “That’s pretty cool. It’s the only even number that’s prime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki raised an eyebrow. “What about 3?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“3 is everywhere in literature, Makki,” Matsukawa said, clapping Hanamaki on the shoulder. “Everywhere in general, actually. Three little pigs, three blind mice, three musketeers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru poked the number on Hanamaki’s jersey. “Three parts of the atom, even. There’s a Latin saying that goes something like that. Rule of threes, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki looked dubious, but he said nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For me, 4’s a perfect square.” Hajime said after some thought. “I guess 1’s technically a perfect square, too, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“According to superstition, it’s unlucky,” Matsukawa pointed out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Mattsun. Makes me feel really good about my number.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“4’s the first composite number,” Tooru added. “And there are four dimensions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki shook his head, flipping his water bottle in his hand. “Now you’re just making shit up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right, everyone,” Coach Irihata called out to them, clapping his hands to get their attention. “Johzenji’s bus will be here in about a half hour, so we’ll be warming up first before the practice game.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, it’s not just the whole number theory thing. My dad showed me an article about parallel universes a while ago,” Tooru said, beginning to stretch his arms. “I think it was written by someone at MIT. I did a bit of research afterwards about it just because I thought it was kind of interesting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki’s eyebrows were raised as he looked at Tooru, and Hajime saw Matsukawa eyeing the newfound interest on his friend’s face. For Tooru, “kind of interesting” ranged from his fixation on national team members’ volleyball serves to the ratio of Cheerios to milk in a bowl of cereal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Basically, there are four levels of the multiverse. Level I is an extension of our universe, level II is a universe with different physical constants, level III is the way we normally think of multiple universes, and level IV is called the ultimate ensemble. Where every universe is equally real, equally possible. There’s no level V, only four levels in total.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime looked down at the white number 4 on his practice jersey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So if we were each a level of the multiverse, I’m essentially the universe as it is now -- the building blocks for more universes -- Mattsun is the universe that’s infinitely expanding, Makki is the mainstream interpretation that there exist many worlds, and Iwa-chan is every single universe in every single level.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa was the first to speak. “When’d you become such a nerd for physics?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Way too much thinking this early in the morning,” Hanamaki grumbled, but he was staring at the number 3 on his chest, picking at it with his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coach Irihata whistled. “We’re starting! Oikawa, get over here for some tosses!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Four levels of the multiverse, four of us.” Tooru smiled as he stood. “What a coincidence, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So in your book, there are four friends, and they all went to school together,” Hajime said, one hand in his hair. “Just like us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Matsukawa looked apologetic. “It’s shamelessly copied off of real life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the narrator gets thrown into a parallel universe where things are different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Way different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like the two characters that are dating,” Hajime said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, the dating part wasn’t really based on real life, either.” Matsukawa laughed awkwardly. “The main point is the time warp, the parallel universes! It’s sci-fi, not romance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But those two characters are me and Oikawa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Based on</span>
  </em>
  <span> you two.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime shook his head. “Why not you and Hanamaki? Doesn’t that make way more sense?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I thought it’d be a little weird to write about my lo - my crush on Takahiro. That’d make him uncomfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he and Hanamaki were on a first name basis now. Matsukawa Issei and Takahiro Hanamaki, numbers 2 and 3 back in high school. Hajime nodded slowly. “So you wrote about me and Oikawa instead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa laughed shakily, closing the laptop. “It wasn’t a very thoughtful thing to do. I think a small part of me was hoping that you’d feel -- I don’t know -- happy? Takahiro reacted that way, so I thought it might be the same.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime uncrossed his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does that make me sound cocky, or is that normal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not it. I just still don’t get why you didn’t just write about yourself and Makki. It probably would’ve been easier for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa swirled the water around in the glass, careful to keep it from spilling onto the table. “I guess that back when I started writing, I thought I didn’t have a chance with Takahiro in real life. I didn’t want to write about a love story that was doomed to fail. That’d just be tragic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime could practically hear Tooru’s voice echoing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You love me, still, in this universe. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa continued, chin resting in his palms. “I thought you and Oikawa had it made, you know? If soulmates existed, you two would be soulmates. That was a pretty terrible assumption, but that’s what I convinced myself to think while I was writing. It was just - it was way, way easier to think of a happy love story when it wasn’t about me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And I love you, too.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa ground his teeth together. “In a twisted way, I was really only considering me and Takahiro. That’s why I couldn’t write about it.  I mean, things have changed between us since then, but the book kind of took shape by itself. Does that… does that make any sense?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It does,” Hajime heard himself say. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If soulmates existed, you two would be soulmates. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I… It’s nice that you included me in your book. I’m grateful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to try to spare my feelings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious,” Hajime said. “I mean, I get to be part of your success. Your readers, whoever they are, they’ll know about us four in some way. Even if your book has multiple universes that we don’t experience in real life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The friendship part is the same in the book as it is in real life,” Matsukawa said. His eyes shone, and he wiped at them underneath his glasses. “Thanks for hearing me out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime found that his expression of gratitude reflected itself on Matsukawa’s face. The feeling of making someone happy with his words, no matter how minor, never failed to surprise him, whether he was working with patients at the hospital or with friends at his apartment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Hajime said, “who else knows about this whole thing, besides me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right now, only you, Takahiro, and Oikawa know about what my book’s really about. It’s not that obvious that the characters are based on real people in my life, actually, unless you’re already aware of it. I don’t think you have to worry about any Aoba Johsai teammates asking if you’re the guy from the book -- I’m writing under a pseudonym, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oikawa knows?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. He was pretty quiet about it at first, then he started making a huge fuss about how he’s gonna become a celebrity or something from the book. You know, typical Oikawa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t seem angry or anything? Or sad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, he was just being an ass about it later, saying I owe him royalties or something, and how it’s only logical for me to pay him for basing a main character on him. Other than that, he seemed okay with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru’s voice seemed to whisper in Hajime’s ear.</span>
  <em>
    <span> It’s the logical thing based on everything that’s happened between us so far.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“And,” Matsukawa added nervously, “Hanamaki kicked me out because he wants to throw me an impromptu party. He called it a Congratulations-You’re-A-Real-Writer party.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well.” Hajime looked at the bowl of cold fried rice on his kitchen table. “You deserve a party. Finishing a book isn’t easy at all. Is he setting up right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s a very spontaneous party. I tried to stop him, but it didn’t work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just the four of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime had expected it, but he grimaced regardless. “Okay, sounds good. Cozy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa seemed to be watching his expression closely. “Is part of the reason you were so upset because Oikawa said something to you that night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime looked at the water dripping down the exterior of the glass that Matsukawa had been holding. “I’m not upset.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uncomfortable, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t it normal to feel uncomfortable?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re avoiding the question, Iwaizumi,” Matsukawa said, his voice firm but not unkind. “You’re not uncomfortable with the - the gay relationship itself, I think, you’re uncomfortable because it’s a relationship between you and Oikawa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime said nothing.</span>
</p><p><span>“So Oikawa did</span> <span>say something to you the night of our high school reunion?”</span></p><p>
  <span>“We talked for a little while,” Hajime said, words stilted. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As your friend,” Matsukawa said, “and as Oikawa’s friend, I feel some weird sense of responsibility to make things right between you two. And mostly because I wrote a book with you two in it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When you say make things right…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not gonna do anything out of line,” he said hurriedly. “Just </span>
  <em>
    <span>talk </span>
  </em>
  <span>to each other, goddamnit. I was talking to Oikawa a while ago, and he was stony and cold about the whole thing -- kind of like how you’re acting now, actually -- so I knew something was up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not that easy,” Hajime said. “Actually, it’s not easy at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa leaned forward, looking intently at him. “That’s exactly why you have to do it. How do you think Takahiro and I talked about it a few weeks ago?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We sat down and talked like the adults we’re supposed to be. You’re supposed to meet up and communicate </span>
  <em>
    <span>because </span>
  </em>
  <span>it’s hard, not in spite of it. I don’t really remember the exact way Oikawa put it, but he said something about how systems always degenerate to chaos. If you don’t put in effort, then things go to pieces, basically.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Entropy. He mentioned it sometimes back in college. It’s the second law of thermodynamics -- the universe tends towards disorder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So don’t let the universe win out,” Matsukawa said. “Talk to him.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The scoreboard displayed 24 to 20 when Tooru’s service ace flew onto Johzenji’s side of the court, inches away from their libero’s outstretched arm, and slammed onto the floor below.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I forgot how intense these practice matches can be,” Tooru said as he high-fived the rest of them. He was sweating hard, eyes sharp and cheeks flushed from exertion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice serve, Oikawa,” Hajime said, raising his hand to fist bump him. “Johzenji’s not bad, but I think we’ve got this next set in the bag.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru looked over at the scoreboard with narrowed eyes. “25 to 20,” he mused. “Next time, let’s cut them off before they get to twenty points.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they headed to the bench for the break, Hanamaki mimed hitting the ball. “It’s so much more satisfying to end a set with a long rally and a solid spike, though. Even jump serves are boring in comparison.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Tooru said. “When you’re serving, </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> eyes are on you. You’re the only person on the court that matters.” He wiped his forehead. “Same reason why pinch servers have so much pride.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All eyes are on the spikers, too,” Hajime pointed out. “Setters, blockers, liberos, audience, everyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Serves are different. No one’s distracted by decoys or out of place or anything like that. No disorder or chaos.” Tooru grinned. “And you can get the point before they even have a chance to attack, all by yourself.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oikawa’s a control freak,” Hanamaki said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He just likes to win.” Hajime glanced at the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rule the Court </span>
  </em>
  <span>banner that they’d strung over the upper level of the Seijoh gym. “That’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Team meeting, guys,” Matsukawa beckoned the first and second years closer to them. “Oikawa, same strategy for the second set?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru set his water bottle down on the bench and stood up. He reached down to adjust his knee brace and knee pad, then straightened up and faced the team. “Watch out for their number 1’s spikes, and don’t get thrown off if they do something unexpected. Nothing’s a surprise if we’re prepared for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime was keenly aware of Johzenji’s team stealing glances at them, talking amongst themselves about how best to beat Seijoh in a conversation that mirrored Tooru’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Kunimi, I know it’s only a practice match, but at least pretend to try, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why’d he only call me out?” Kunimi muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s keep it up, guys.” Tooru said. “I’m not planning to let them get this set.” He looked to the coaches for any other advice, but Irihata only gave them an approving nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa was talking to Hanamaki by the side of the court, and Hajime and Tooru alone by the net.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know how we were talking about parallel universes earlier?” Tooru asked him as they waited for the whistle that announced the second set.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, what about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In the fourth level of the multiverse theory, every universe is supposed to be equally possible. But I don’t know if I really believe that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The referee blew the whistle, and they headed to the court.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you trying to say that Johzenji won’t beat us in any universe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not in any universe that I’m playing in,” Tooru grinned, getting into his starting position beside Hajime on the court. “Actually, no school can beat us in any universe where you’re with me. We’re better together than alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But we only live in one universe, one time,” Hajime said. “The other universes have other versions of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru had his hands on his hips, watching as the other team’s members got into position. “Even if they’re ridiculous, that team has got the right idea -- you only live once.” He smiled as the server for Johzenji walked to the back line, ready to begin the next set. “If this universe really is alone, I’m glad we’re in it together.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>As they stepped out of his apartment, Hajime said, “You never told me what you were going to call your book.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I didn’t?” Matsukawa leaned over to straighten out the back of his shoe. “The company’s considering a few titles right now, I think. I like mine the most, but they’ll vote and pick whichever one they think will sell the most.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are some of the titles?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re kind of embarrassing,” Matsukawa said with a grimace. “There’s one I’d planned since the beginning, but the editors might change it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to call it </span>
  <em>
    <span>A World Alone</span>
  </em>
  <span> because of all the parallel universe stuff that’s brought up in it.” Matsukawa scratched the back of his head. “It’s not the best title there is, but I got the idea suddenly, and I went with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime stilled</span>
  <em>
    <span>. I spent all my time in the world alone, wishing I was with you but not knowing how.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“The premise and title were all from Oikawa, weren’t they?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa laughed. “Yeah, they were. Remember in high school when he used to talk randomly about physics and whatever article he’d been reading recently?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember,” Hajime said, mouth dry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s how it came up, I think.” He paused. “I did my own research afterwards. Not exactly scientifically accurate, but it’s fiction, so whatever. I guess parallel universes in general are fascinating to me, even though I’m terrible in science subjects.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re interesting,” agreed Hajime. “Not just to Oikawa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what do you think of it, Iwaizumi? </span>
  <em>
    <span>A World Alone</span>
  </em>
  <span> isn’t the catchiest title, and it sounds kind of sad, but I liked it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If this universe really is alone, I’m glad we’re in it together.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like the idea, too.” Hajime turned to face Matsukawa. “It’s not entirely sad at all. It’s… touching. Bittersweet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa nodded as they headed to his car. “Do you want to read the novel? I can only give you the unedited manuscript, there’s no way it’ll be published any time soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Hajime said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll cut out the parts with you and Oikawa’s relationship if it makes you uncomfortable. It's not hugely essential to the plot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, leave them in.” Hajime smiled hesitantly as he turned to Matsukawa. “I want to read all of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa’s eyebrows were raised, but he said nothing else as they got into his Mini Cooper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold on, is it okay if we stop by a flower shop before we go to your place?” Hajime asked. He had his phone out, searching online for flower language and sifting through the search results. “And let’s pick up some candles. Do you have a lighter at your apartment?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Purple hyacinths symbolize regret</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the website said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, you’re buying me flowers now?” Matsukawa laughed, eyes on the rearview mirror as he reversed out of the parking spot. “That’s ridiculous, I don’t need that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, Mattsun, the flowers aren’t for you.” He looked up, heartbeat quickening as he spoke. “I’ll buy you a drink later to celebrate instead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Peruvian lilies represent devotion.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are the flowers for, then?” Matsukawa was smiling knowingly as he drove.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Red roses mean love.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“For Oikawa,” Hajime said. “They’re for Tooru.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i know i said i'll be much busier and off-schedule, and i am, but writing this is an excellent form of procrastination. so i'm back with another chapter :D (my procrastination-driven sprees made this fic just barely hit 50k words, wowow)</p><p>also: over a thousand hits?! it’s mind-boggling that this fic has been clicked on that many times, and i’m so so grateful for every single hit, kudos, comment, and bookmark. thank you thank you thank you to everyone who’s reading this! &lt;3333</p><p>p.s. all of my admittedly limited knowledge of physics and math is from random internet articles or from long ago classes. i also know nothing about flowers, but i'm trusting the internet's info here.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. nunc scio quid sit amor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“I mean that if I were in love, I’d do it all for them. I wouldn’t just do anything, I’d do everything.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>nunc scio quid sit amor is a latin quote from virgil meaning "now i know what love is."</p><p>hope you enjoy &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Never thought I’d see you in one of my classes, Iwaizumi.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime looked up from his phone to see Shirabu leaning against the table, chair angled towards him. He’d found out at orientation that Shirabu was one of his college classmates, one of the only others from Miyagi that ended up at university in Tokyo, and he happened to have been the setter for Shiratorizawa Academy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their current class, a seminar about global health policies that was filled with pre-meds, had devolved into small discussions that were mostly about “getting to know each other” for the first day of class. Shirabu had apparently taken that to mean that he should pester Hajime.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Shirabu,” Hajime said, hoping he sounded somewhat welcoming. “I didn’t know you were interested in medicine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean, you didn’t know I had the grades to get into Keio?” Shirabu scooted one seat closer. “I did get into Shiratorizawa without a sports scholarship, you know. It’s all up here.” He tapped his head, uneven bangs swaying with his movements.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what I meant,” Hajime said. “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To be honest, I didn’t think you were the brightest back then, either. Wing spikers usually aren’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I do okay in school. Enough to be in this class with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, right,” Shirabu said, glancing down at Hajime’s notes spread on the table. Hajime got the distinct sense that he was trying to see through him while putting on a pretense of friendliness. “So what’s your reason?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My reason for what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For doing medicine. No one puts themselves through all this without a solid reason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime looked down at his phone, which he knew would have a text from Tooru about his doctor’s appointment coming any minute now. He flipped it over, and Shirabu’s eyebrows raised. “What’s your reason, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A comfortable and successful life,” Shirabu said, nodding. “No need for fame or anything. And I’m smart enough to do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime nodded. Even as a first year in college, he was already tired of hearing things like “helping people” or other noble but essentially meaningless causes. “Makes sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what about you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, same as yours,” Hajime said, hearing his phone chime from a text. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So Tooru’s appointment had ended. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He wondered what the doctor had to say about Tooru’s knee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shirabu laughed. “Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t strike me as a materialistic person, though. Or someone stingy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime itched to check his messages, but he knew Shirabu would find some way to figure out what was happening. He probably already had. “You’re saying you are?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep, one hundred percent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why become a doctor? What about consultant or lawyer or something?” He reached for his phone and turned it to silent. “It’d take less time and less money to begin with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like challenges and studying,” Shirabu said. “And it’s a more respectable job, isn’t it? You can help people. But back to you -- I have a feeling I know your reason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime tapped the back of his phone case anxiously. “What do you think it is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably something you won’t admit to yourself, so you won’t admit it to me. There’s no way it’s something as simple as living a successful life. Am I right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Hajime said, but Shirabu grinned triumphantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked down at Hajime’s tense hand over his phone. “You can check your messages now, you know. No need to hold back on my account.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s alright. It’s probably nothing important,” Hajime said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you say so,” Shirabu said, looking unconvinced. “Hey, do you still talk to Oikawa? I never really liked that guy or the kid from Karasuno. Setters aren’t meant to stand out much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, we talk occasionally,” Hajime said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, another reason I’ve decided to become a doctor -- and this is a secret, okay?” Shirabu looked around, but none of the other students were listening to them. “A secret.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got it. A secret.” He doubted anyone else cared about Shirabu’s reasons for pursuing a career in medicine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did it because my mom wanted me to, and I thought, why not?” He smiled thinly, the first real expression that Hajime had seen on him since their high school match so many years ago. “It’s not like she pressured me at all. I just probably wouldn’t have done it if she hadn’t brought it up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t that a good thing? That means your mom introduced you to something you’ll end up spending your life on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, is it a good thing?” Shirabu’s smile was too white, all teeth. “You tell me -- is doing something this big justified by what some other person wants? Even if that person’s important to you?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime’s phone chimed again, another text from Tooru, and he instinctively jerked it away from Shirabu. He tried to think about Shirabu and his mother, not about him and Tooru, not about Tooru’s knee and physical therapy and doctors and surgery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s justified,” he said. His hand tightened on his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shirabu raised his eyebrow again, and they both knew that Hajime wasn’t sure.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hajime looked down at the colorful bouquet in his hand. The car started, and he was propelled forward, jostling the petals. “I think that this is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa smiled, his dimples prominent. “Have you ever looked in a mirror?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime only turned the bouquet around, observing the assortment of flowers from all angles. The streetlights cast bizarre shadows onto the floor of the car. “I should’ve listened to the store employee. This thing is awful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oikawa’s going to hate it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If they’re from you, there’s no way he’ll hate them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s just that these flowers don’t look good together.” As he shook it, Hajime watched the petal of one of the purple hyacinths flutter to his feet. “And I don’t even know what a Peruvian lily is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter what it is. It’s the gesture that matters, Iwaizumi. The gesture.” Matsukawa leaned back in his seat, hands resting against the steering wheel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should have thought this through.” He sighed. “How much longer until we get to your place?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About five minutes, give or take.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime nodded. “Is Oikawa there already?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he’s usually late to everything,” Matsukawa said. “So, probably not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime gripped the bouquet more tightly. “Probably isn’t reassuring at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay calm, man. I thought surgeons could handle stress from, I don’t know, surgeries. You’re freaking me out right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, this is different,” Hajime said. “This is worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa laughed, startled by his reply. “Really? People die in surgeries, don’t they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But right now, I’m not the surgeon anymore.” Hajime struggled to find the words to say. “I’m not really in charge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the patient,” Matsukawa said with a slow nod. “I get it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Oikawa has the scalpel and the needle and the sutures.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to die. The worst that could happen is, well, Oikawa turns you down or something. And depending on his response, you either regroup and try again or you let go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s why it’s worse</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Hajime thought to himself as he turned to face the car window. It was strange to him that he’d lived in a state of limbo for the past few weeks before Matsukawa had shown up at his door, a flux in which he’d recognized Tooru’s words to him that day in the car but also realized how exactly he’d responded to those very sentiments. He’d been wearing a veil over his head, seeing only the immediate and never making an effort to look further. Hajime hadn’t felt the magnetic pull to go to Tooru and clear things up, to somehow make things right -- whatever “right” was with them -- until Matsukawa had taken the veil off of his forehead and it had all come back with a rush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remembering that he loved Tooru -- or, rather, being aware of that love -- was like the spark that ignited a wildfire. The place that once housed dormant woods had now become a raging inferno, and it would continue to eat away at him until he was face to face with Tooru.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime wanted to ask Matsukawa to turn the car around, to return him to the safety of his apartment, but he knew it was no use. He set the bouquet down in his lap. The flowers stayed unsightly under the bright lights flashing by the car, and the wildfire in his heart continued to burn.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Some girl confessed to Iwaizumi in the hallway this morning,” Hanamaki said, picking up his water bottle from the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh? Not to Oikawa?” Kindaichi asked. He jerked a finger in the direction of Tooru, who was trying to correct the new players’ forms during their break.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, she liked our resident ace. His resting bitch face and anger and all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop gossipping and get back to practice,” Hajime muttered, hitting Hanamaki’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d she get to know him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She said she’d seen Iwaizumi at a game once, and she plays on the girls’ volleyball team as the libero. Since then, he’d been helping her out with bio homework.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime sighed. “I regret telling you anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’d she like about him?” Kindaichi asked. “Maybe she wanted to meet Oikawa through Iwaizumi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime leaned over and lightly punched Kindachi in the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She said he was hardworking and handsome,” Hanamaki said, pretending to gag. “I wanted to ask if she’d gotten the wrong guy. And second years blindly like third years just because they’re older.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kunimi was tying his shoe as he spoke. “She’s a second year? Do you know her name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kaoru,” Hajime said grudgingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I know her. She’s nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And cute,” Hanamaki added. “She had really long hair, and she was on the shorter side. Really quiet, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that Iwaizumi’s type?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not really,” Hajime said. “Not at all, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still, if she’s cute, she’s cute.” Yahaba smiled, rubbing his hands together. “Introduce me to her friends if you get the chance, Iwaizumi. We could double date or something, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that won’t be happening. I turned her down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Iwaizumi, man, come on</span>
  <em>
    <span>!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bro, seriously?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa was laughing loudly next to Hanamaki, who had dropped his water bottle onto the floor. “Your one confession this year, and you turned her down? What’d you say to her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, I said that there was nothing wrong about her, just that I didn’t really like her like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Iwaizumi’s a terrible person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I panicked, okay? It takes a while for me to like people, I can’t just fall in love on the spot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one who’s just confessed wants to hear that, Iwaizumi,” Matsukawa said. “Poor Kaoru’s probably never gonna want to come to a boys’ volleyball game again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime scratched the back of his head. “I said I was sorry, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“High school girls are sensitive, man. You’re so insensitive you probably made her cry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“People </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>tend to cry a lot after being turned down,” Tooru said, coming up next to Hajime and bumping an arm against his. His eyes were bright from exertion, and he was smiling widely. “I’d know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, you get rejected a lot?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop laughing, Makki-chan! I’ll have you know that I’m the one doing the rejecting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why’re you even bragging about making girls cry? That’s awful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not like I do it intentionally, though.” Tooru waved at Kunimi, Kindaichi, and Yahaba. “Irihata wants all you second years to get going. Break’s over for juniors.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa shook his head, watching the second years head back to the court. “Well, I can’t wait for the day you get rejected by the person you like, Oikawa. It’d be worth it just to see your expression.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s so mean!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bet you’ll do a really heartfelt confession, and then the person’s going to be completely unreceptive. And you’ll be crushed and feel bad for all the girls whose hearts you broke in high school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, Oikawa Tooru, could never be something as undignified as heartbroken. Or rejected, for that matter. No one’s good enough for me to be like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’ll happen. And when it does, I’ll say something like ‘I told you so.’ Or that karma’s a bitch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If, on the off chance that it does happen, and you’re right,” Tooru said, putting his elbow on Hajime’s shoulder, “then I’m sure she’ll figure out her mistake and come running back to my arms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’ll live happily ever after?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru’s arm was warm against Hajime’s shoulder. “No way. If she didn’t like me the first time I confessed, there’s no reason for me to accommodate her. It’d just be nice to know that she liked me back, that’s all. But for love, you should only get one chance. It’s all or nothing then and there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe in second chances,” Matsukawa said with a long look at Hanamaki. He cleared his throat. “At least, I want to. What about you, Iwaizumi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime shoved Tooru’s elbow off of his shoulder, and Tooru poked him in the stomach in retaliation. “If I ever somehow started to like Kaoru, and I went to her and told her, I’d want her to give me a chance. So I guess I must believe in second chances, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But life’s too short to regret things in the past,” Tooru said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime shook his head. “There are always opportunities to fix things you’ve messed up. It’s not like you never have regrets. You’ll have them, sure, but then you learn from them one way or another. That’s what life is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru’s jaw tensed, and he leaned away. “You’re not going to go tell this girl you rejected that you like her suddenly, are you? You’d have to swallow that ridiculous pride of yours. I don’t think I could ever do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not for her,” Hajime said, “but for the right person, I think I could.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki was standing on a chair and trying to hang up a paper sign on the wall, his back to the front door when Hajime and Matsukawa walked into the apartment. He turned around at the sound of the opening door and grinned at them. “Hey, guys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s this?” Matsukawa asked, taking long strides across the room until he’d reached him. “Is this for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sign was a flimsy sheet of printer paper with “congrats” written in Hanamaki’s blocky scrawl. The “s” was very nearly off of the paper, black Sharpie intersecting with the edge of the paper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki was busy affixing it to the wall with Scotch tape. “It’s ugly, isn’t it? I was worried you’d come home before I could make another one, but you’re here already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not ugly at all,” Matsukawa said. He smoothed out one of the corners, pressing the tape against the dull tan wall. “Things done with care could never be ugly -  at least, not to the person they’re meant for.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime looked down at the bouquet in his hand and took a deep breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s with the flowers, Iwaizumi?” Hanamaki hopped down from the wobbly chair, and Matsukawa’s arm moved forward to steady him. “You get those for Issei?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not for Mattsun, no.” The given name </span>
  <em>
    <span>Issei</span>
  </em>
  <span> sounded natural in Hanamaki’s voice. “Sorry. But I’m here to celebrate with you guys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki’s eyes widened, and he nodded slowly as realization dawned on him. “Got it. Oikawa hasn’t responded to my or Issei’s texts yet, so I’m not sure when he’ll be here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s okay. I don’t mind waiting.” Hajime heard himself jostling the plastic bag with scented candles, and he tried to still his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Hanamaki said, heading to the kitchen and grabbing four bottles of beer, “it’s party time. I haven’t celebrated something in </span>
  <em>
    <span>forever. </span>
  </em>
  <span>This is as good of an excuse as any to get drunk and stay up way too late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa flicked him in the shoulder, rolling his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And also to congratulate our very own published author.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Soon-to-be published author,” Matsukawa corrected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>And</span>
  </em>
  <span> to celebrate the main characters of the story,” Hanamaki said. He leaned over to grab a bottle opener and popped open the lids on two of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime waved his hand to stop him from opening the third and fourth. He was aware of the passing time, the lack of Tooru. One in four missing wasn’t much, he thought, but it seemed like something was very wrong with Tooru absent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamaki raised his bottle. “Oikawa, Matsukawa, me, and Iwaizumi. The star squad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime smiled, watching his two friends clink their drinks together. “Those aren’t the names of the characters in the story, though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But they’re the main characters in </span>
  <em>
    <span>our</span>
  </em>
  <span> story, aren’t they? That’s good enough for me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Oikawa, how do you know if you’re in love?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru caught and held the volleyball he’d been tossing against the wall. He regarded Hajime. “Is this about that girl who confessed to you earlier this week?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Hajime said. “I’ve just been thinking about her recently. I feel like I was too harsh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think you’re in love with her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t even know what love is supposed to feel like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru was silent for a few long moments, and only the sound of the gym’s radiator and buzzing of the fluorescent lights could be heard. “So you want to know what it feels like for me, is that it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess. I-If you’ve ever been in love, that is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know about love for myself either.” He looked down at the volleyball in his hands, his right knee in its white brace a few feet below. “But I guess love is feeling like you could do anything for another person, no matter what.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime swallowed roughly. “Sacrifice yourself for someone, you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not really. It’s more like -- like that person makes you feel invincible. Capable. You could literally do anything, even if it seemed impossible before, just for them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru must have noticed the serious expression on Hajime’s face because he laughed too loudly, trying to lighten up the mood. “What do you think? Too cheesy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe not </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Hajime said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that was an exaggeration. Anything within the realm of human possibility.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean that if I were in love, I’d do it all for them. I wouldn’t just do anything, I’d do everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru’s breath hitched, and then he began to smile. “Everything, you say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what love should be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile was sardonically sweet. “So would you do everything for that girl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. It’s unrealistic, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ll ever meet a person who’ll make me feel like that,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he turned away, he missed the way Tooru’s face fell.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>An hour later, Matsukawa was in his so-called “writing room” taking a phone call from his publisher while Hajime and Hanamaki sat in the living room. There were seven bottles of beer on the coffee table, two untouched and dripping in condensation. Hanamaki nursed his third bottle as he leaned against the armrest of the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hanamaki, can I ask you something?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go for it, man. Ask away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime glanced at the flowers and candles he knew were at the entrance of the apartment. “How’d you know you liked Mattsun enough to try a relationship with him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Hanamaki said, “it’s that kind of question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry. You don’t need to answer it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve finally gotten around to the idea that Oikawa likes you back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Issei and I are </span>
  <em>
    <span>al</span>
  </em>
  <span>ways right,” Hanamaki said, waving his drink around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime laughed mirthlessly. “I get that now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d I like Issei… I guess I just thought that I wanted him to be happy. Or, more like I wanted to be the one making him happy. And things like waking up and knowing he’s in the room over there or setting the table for two, I really liked that. That’s all. Nothing earth-shattering.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just like being with him, you know? Do you get it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Falling asleep next to him, spending time together, all that shit. I don’t need to be a doctor or writer or whatever. I don’t want to be. I’m myself, not the guy the writer likes. But that’s enough for love, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime thought back to his days with Tooru from years ago, simultaneously wishing he could remember those times more vividly and hoping he could forget all the memories. “You’re right. It’s more than enough.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Emiko told me she was in love with me yesterday.” Tooru rolled over and propped his head up on his elbows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good for you,” Hajime said. “It’s only been a week and a half since you started dating. That’s a new record.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She doesn’t really love me. She barely knows me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime smirked. “That’s why she loves you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru leaned over to slug him in the arm, but he dodged. “Not funny, Iwa-chan. How am I supposed to fall in love with someone if they don’t really love me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make them really love you, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s hard to tell real love and fake love apart. I get too many love confessions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no,” Hajime said flatly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I asked Emiko what she liked about me, she said she liked how good I am at volleyball. And how I’m always nice to her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re only good at volleyball because you practice your ass off, and you’re only nice to her because you like having fangirls.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See, she doesn’t see the real me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The real you is trashy and doesn’t take care of himself at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But someone has to love that real me, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not Emiko.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So how can I tell when someone really loves me or not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess… you could treat them how you treat me and see if they still want to be around you. That’s enough to drive anyone away, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru looked at him strangely. “You’re still here, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I’m surprised, too. I guess someone’s gotta keep an eye on the real you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that’s the test? The Iwa-chan test?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>test</span>
  </em>
  <span> people. That sounds shitty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just told me to do it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what am I supposed to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Figure it out yourself, Shittykawa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t give me real advice, I’m telling the entire team that you have Godzilla boxers that you still wear to sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go ahead and tell them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru whipped out his phone and opened their groupchat, fingers posed to type. “You sure? Makki and Yahaba will make fun of you for months to come, you know. The aspiring doctor likes Godzilla still… that’s embarrassing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime opened his mouth and closed it a few times. “Fine. Real love is what we talked about that one time at the gym. Where you’d do anything or everything or whatever for the person you love. Fake love… isn’t that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would Iwa-chan do everything for me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, you ass.” Hajime leaned over to return the punch Tooru had tried earlier, and he landed a fist on his shoulder. “Emiko and I are different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru rubbed his shoulder, but he was smiling fondly as he put his phone away. “I know that very, very well,” he said.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa stepped back into the living room. “Hey, Oikawa just texted me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime inhaled sharply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He said he can’t make it today. He’s still at Todai, working on some research thing.” Matsukawa turned to face Hajime, mouth creased into a thin line and eyebrows knitted together. His dimples weren’t visible, Hajime noted blankly. “What do you want to do, Iwaizumi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he’s the love of your life, not mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime stood up with so much force his chair almost fell backwards. He was already pulling on his jacket, thinking about the quickest route to the University of Tokyo’s campus from Matsukawa and Hanamaki’s place, wondering how high above the speed limit he could go without getting caught. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They watched him walk to the door. where the bouquet and plastic bag had been set by the entrance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime tugged his shoes on. “Mattsun, can I borrow your car for the night? Sorry, I know it’s a big favor to ask, but -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say no more, man. The keys are on the rack right there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I might not be able to come back here tonight, so I’m sorry for cutting Mattsun’s celebration short.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop apologizing,” Hanamaki said, smiling. “Get out of here already, Iwaizumi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime picked up the bouquet and the bag that he’d set by the entrance earlier. The candles rustled the plastic, and a petal fell from one of the Peruvian lilies and onto the welcome mat by the door. “Am I doing the right thing here? Going after him like this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s up to you,” Hanamaki said. “But if you ask us, this is the first right thing you’ve done so far.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This could make everything so much worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance to make things so much better. A once-in-infinite-lifetimes chance, once-in-infinite-universes. Why waste it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The drive to Todai was more stressful than Hajime had expected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matsukawa’s beloved Mini Cooper had remarkably poor fuel efficiency, so Hajime was worried about running out of gas during the trip. He worried that Tooru had lied to Matsukawa, that he wasn’t really at Todai, that he was at home in his apartment or out elsewhere or avoiding Hajime completely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime wouldn’t have blamed him. He knew that Tooru wasn’t one to give second chances.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he pulled into the parking lot of the main science building where he knew Tooru’s office was, only a few cars were still there. Hajime noticed Tooru’s flashy white sedan was in one of the faculty parking lots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a deep breath and got out of the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The security guard hesitantly let him in after he explained his connection to Tooru, and Hajime made his way to the elevator with leaden feet. He wanted so badly to prolong the experience, to live another few moments with rejection, but a small part of him fervently hoped that he’d get the reciprocation he so hypocritically wanted. He wondered if Tooru had felt the same way sitting in the car on their way back from the Seijoh reunion, and his heart hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The physics department was located on floor 4. Hajime pressed the button and watched the elevator doors close in front of him. He realized belatedly that he’d left the bouquet and the candles in the passenger seat, and he silently cursed himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru’s office was in a pod at the end of a long hallway, marked by a small metal plaque on the door with his name and along with some of the other lecturers. Hajime’s wildfire roared as he steeled himself and opened the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only light came from under Tooru’s door, golden and illuminating the floor of the main room. Soft, classical piano music escaped from the cracks -- Chopin’s nocturnes, Tooru’s favorite studying music in college, lovely and intense and dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The piano music stopped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who is it?” Tooru’s voice came, just as beautiful as the music that had been playing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hajime,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?” Tooru’s glasses were askew, hair a mess and button down wrinkled with sleeves pulled up. Hajime thought he looked more handsome than ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I came to talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing to talk about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You told me not to pretend that conversation we had didn’t happen, so I’m not pretending. I’m facing it like you told me to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru squeezed his eyes shut. “If this is about Matsukawa’s publishing party, you can go back and tell him I’m sorry I’ve missed it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime wedged his foot in the door. “This is about us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime’s mouth felt very dry. He shook his head, trying to keep Tooru from slamming the office door shut in his face. “I forgot the flowers. I had a bouquet of -- of hyacinths and lilies and roses. They had special meanings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru’s eyes narrowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I had candles, too -- scented candles, the ones you liked back in college? The same brand that almost burned down your dorm room in sophomore year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru shook his head, pushing the door against Hajime.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were right about the roses and candles. I got those for you back then, that day in March before college, but I was too scared. I thought fate was real back then -- stupid, right? -- so it wasn’t meant to be and that was the end. Except usually people get over their first loves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru’s eyes were shining. Hajime reached out to touch his face, but Tooru hastily wiped his tears with the back of his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyacinths and lilies and roses are the flowers Hanamaki told you to get for that high school girl way, way back. For regret and devotion and love. I still remember that, too. I started thinking about what my life has been like with you and without you, and what love’s supposed to be like, and if this was love or if this was wrong. I got worried about us being us, friends but also two men, and I was scared for myself but mostly for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru closed his eyes, and a stream of tears rolled over his cheek. “Iwa...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime opened the door wider until he was standing face to face with Tooru, only inches away from him. He could feel Tooru’s warm breath on his face and see the tear tracks on his face. “I know you don’t want an ‘us ’ anymore. I didn’t either. But I don’t think I can live without you, and I’m tired of pretending that I’m okay with how things ended that night, so please, please, please, will you hear me out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You already rejected me once,” Tooru murmured. “You said you didn’t love me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’m telling you now that I do love you.” Hajime’s heart clenched at the expression on Tooru’s face. “I’m an orthopedic surgeon specializing in sports injuries. Knee injuries. I want to help people to make up for how I couldn’t help you back then, because you always loved volleyball the most, and it was the only thing that really mattered to me enough for me to do it for life. I did it all for you, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru’s eyes softened. “I was pretty sure that you’re doing what you’re doing now because of me, but you being a doctor today… it’s not supposed to involve me at all. It was your decision, wasn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m helping the Oikawa Toorus of the future. That’s enough to keep me going.” Hajime rubbed a hand through his hair, agitated. “My point is that I’d do everything for you.  Not anything, everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you remember that, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I do. I can’t forget it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru clenched his jaw. “Why are you telling me all of this now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I’ve been thinking that we’re lucky we have each other in this universe.” Hajime took a half step closer, leaning until his forehead touched Tooru’s. His hands came up to hold Tooru’s cold fingers, and they breathed in tandem. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru began to pull away. “It’s not luck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then is it fate influencing me again? Even if we fucked up a few times and we have our flaws, you’re you and I’m me and I think we’re meant to be together. I don’t know if I believe in parallel universes, but I believe in us and I believe in you, so I want to accept that it’s true. It’s not a perfect universe and we’re not a perfect pair, but this is the only way I’d want us to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m the one you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the one I love,” Hajime said. “The only one I’ll ever love. I want to see your face in the morning every day and talk to you about your work and put a blanket over you when you fall asleep. I want to be with you. Does that make sense?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru had stopped wiping at his tears, and they fell in rivulets, coating his dark eyelashes and dropping to the wooden floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t make that face,” Hajime pleaded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Iwaizumi, I’m not sure…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Call me Hajime like you did before,” he said, and his voice cracked. “Please. I’ll call you Tooru if you want me to. I love you, Tooru. Please say something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hajime,” Tooru exhaled. He leaned his forward against Hajime’s, and their faces were mere inches apart. “Hajime, Hajime, Hajime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m here, Tooru,” Hajime replied, and he could feel himself crying with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were quiet for a brief period of time, long enough that Hajime lost track of how many minutes he’d spent pleading with Tooru and short enough that they were both still crying. The two rocked gently from side to side in a strange slow dance, shifting from one foot to the other in a silent waltz.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need roses or candles, Hajime,” Tooru said. “I’ve never needed them. You were too blind to realize it back then, but I was, too. I can’t believe we’ve been so foolish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime tried to draw back to look at his face, but Tooru’s hand came up and cradled Hajime’s jaw. Tooru’s fingers wiped at the tears gathering at his chin, rubbing circles on the damp skin as Hajime’s lips parted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I dreaming? Is this an ‘I love you, too?’” Hajime asked, his voice a whisper as Tooru continued to caress down from the swell of his cheekbone to the bow of his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Tooru said. “It’s an ‘I’ve always loved you.’”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>a little rushed and short (i'm so sorry) so i'll probably go back and re-edit or add more bits in a day or two, but i wanted to get this out as quickly as i could. i've been terribly terribly busy recently, but i'm determined to stay on schedule, hopefully without sacrificing too much of the quality. i hope you guys understand.</p><p>only one more chapter! what a journey it's been so far!</p><p>as always, thank you for reading!!! feedback means everything to me &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. finis coronat opus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“What if I said this is the happiest I’ve been in a long, long time?”</p><p>“You can’t know that you won’t be even happier later.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>"finis coronat opus" is latin for "the end crowns the work."</p><p>i hope you enjoy the final chapter! much, much love xx</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
“Is this supposed to be the birthday surprise, Iwa-chan?” Tooru’s voice was hushed, and he kept his palms flat over his eyes as Hajime had instructed. </p><p>“It’s not much of a surprise,” Hajime said. “I think you might’ve figured it out already.”</p><p>Tooru smiled, and Hajime wished he could see the crinkle arounds his eyes. “You were acting antsy and weird all week, and there’s only one thing this could be for. How could I <em> not </em> have noticed?”</p><p>“Hey, you were weirder that time the team tried to throw me a surprise birthday party. You screwed up all your tosses. And then you were surprised when I realized something was up.”</p><p>“Ah, don’t bring that up. That’s my greatest failure as a party planner, you know.”</p><p>“You’re awful at planning parties.”</p><p>“Well, I’m better at attending them.”</p><p>“Only the ones your exes aren’t at. Not very many parties.”</p><p>Tooru made a face. “Seijoh parties aren’t fun anyway -- I’d rather be hanging out with you or Makki and Mattsun or playing volleyball.” He leaned forward. “Anyway, how much longer are we going to drive?”</p><p>“We’re practically there,” Hajime said. “About a minute or so.”</p><p>“This better be worth the drive, Iwa-chan.”</p><p>“It’ll be worth it, I promise.”</p><p>Tooru huffed. “It’s been forever and I’m tired. I can’t believe you woke me up at 3 AM <em> on my birthday </em> for this.”</p><p>“Just wait and see, birthday boy,” Hajime continued to drive until he saw a sign illuminated by the lights of the car. He turned the corner carefully, driving into an empty lot by the dock and shifting the car into parking mode. He got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side. The sound of cicadas was loud around him, and the air smelled faintly of pine needles and must.</p><p>Tooru straightened up at the sound of his car door opening. “Are we here?”</p><p>“Yeah, we’re here. The door’s open, just be careful getting out of the car.”</p><p>“Can I take my hands off of my eyes yet?”</p><p>“Not yet, sorry.”</p><p>“You could’ve bought me a blindfold or something, you know. Touching my face is bad for my skin -- what will I do if I start breaking out tomorrow?</p><p>“Just keep them there for now,” Hajime said, reaching out his hand and tapping Tooru lightly. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.”</p><p>Tooru swallowed as he took Hajime’s hand and got his footing. Hajime quickly brought another hand up to shield Tooru’s head from hitting the top of the car door frame.</p><p>He stood unsteadily, then turned to the sound of Hajime’s voice. “Alright. Lead the way, guide.”</p><p>“Don’t slip, okay? We only have to walk for a minute before we get there.” Hajime took his hand and turned him in the direction of the lake’s dock, steering him out of the concrete parking lot. </p><p>They took their first steps on the wooden dock. Tooru stopped. “Are we at the lake right now?”</p><p>Hajime smiled. “Just walk, Oikawa.”</p><p>“Are we at Lake Izunuma? That’d make sense given how far we drove.”</p><p>He tugged gently at Tooru’s hand. “Keep walking. You’ll see soon enough.”</p><p>When they were finally situated at the end of the dock, surrounded by the lake and feet hanging over the edge, Hajime pressed Tooru’s chest back until they were lying side by side on the wood.</p><p>“You can uncover your eyes now,” he whispered.</p><p>Above them was a vast array of stars, constellations twinkling against the backdrop of the dark sky, glittering like painted jewels on a black canvas. The stars shone in Sendai, but the view of the night out in the rural countryside was so magnificent that it looked unreal.</p><p>“Surprise,” Hajime said, his head turned to see Tooru’s reaction. “Happy eighteenth birthday, Oikawa.”</p><p>“Oh, it's beautiful,” Tooru exhaled, a hand over his mouth. His eyes were bright, and Hajime couldn’t tell if it was because he was teary-eyed with emotion or because the stars reflected in them. “So, so beautiful.”</p><p>“I’m glad. I thought you’d like it.”</p><p>“I love it.” Tooru looked over at him. Their shoulders pressed together, and they both shivered. “So this is what you were planning?”</p><p>“What did you think it would be?”</p><p>“When I realized we were at the lake, I thought you’d push me in, to be honest.”</p><p>Hajime laughed loudly. “Maybe I’ll try that later.”</p><p>“I’ll pull you in with me if you do, Iwa-chan,” Tooru said, looking back up at the sky.</p><p>“Of course you will.”</p><p>“So why’d we have to come here at 3 in the morning?” Tooru asked. “We could have gone any time after sunset to see the stars, right?”</p><p>“Didn’t you see the news earlier this week?”</p><p>“I only read the science section, Iwa-chan,” he said. His eyes widened. “Oh my god, is this it?”</p><p>Hajime grinned triumphantly. “So you didn’t guess the surprise after all. That’s good to hear.”</p><p>“No way, Is this the comet they’ve been talking about? The one that only comes every hundred years or so?”</p><p>He nodded, watching Tooru with a smile on his face.</p><p>“Today’s the perigee, isn’t it?” Tooru propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at Hajime’s face and back up at the sky. “The point that it’s closest to Earth. That’s… crazy. I can’t believe you knew about it, and I forgot.”</p><p>“You were busy with Todai volleyball recruitment, weren’t you? I’ve had a lot of time on my hands since I got into Keio.”</p><p>“A <em> comet </em> on my eighteenth birthday.” He bumped his shoulder into Hajime’s. “Thank you. This is the best birthday gift I’ve ever received.”</p><p>Hajime bumped his shoulder back. “Thank the universe for the comet, not me.”</p><p>“Thank you, universe!” Tooru shouted out to the endless sky. “I thought the universe was unfeeling and cold and up-to-chance, but maybe it’s not.”</p><p>“Maybe we got a lucky universe. One that lets us have comets on our birthdays and best friends who give good gifts.”</p><p>Tooru sighed, still looking at the stars. “I think you’re right. There’s no way that every Oikawa Tooru is as happy in his parallel universe as I am in mine right now. I think I’ve reached my peak happiness, Iwa-chan. It’s only downhill from here.”</p><p>“No, it’s all uphill from here.”</p><p>“What if I said this is the happiest I’ve been in a long, long time?”</p><p>“You can’t know that you won’t be even happier later.”</p><p>“This universe can’t be <em> that </em> great at bringing me happiness.”</p><p>Hajime moved his hand so that it rested Tooru’s leg, knuckles brushing the fabric over Tooru’s right knee. “I’m here, aren’t I? So who cares about what our universe is like? I promise that you’ll have all the happiness you’ll ever want.”</p><p>Tooru looked down, his mouth parted in a small circle.</p><p>Hajime moved his hand back. “The comet should be at its most visible now,” he said. “Or it will be in a little while. I had us leave home earlier just in case, so all we have to do is wait for it to come.”</p><p>“A comet,” Tooru said again, awe evident in his voice. “I haven’t seen a comet properly since I was six.”</p><p>“The one we saw together?”</p><p>“That’s the one. Do you remember it?”</p><p>“I do,” Hajime said. “I’ll remember this one, too. At least for a few years.”</p><p>“I’ll never forget today,” Tooru proclaimed.</p><p>“Sure, sure. Comets are fairly rare.”</p><p>“I mean it. I’ll never forget today, not just because of the comet, but because you’re the one that brought me to see it.” Tooru sat up fully, resting his hands on the edge of the dock and kicking his feet over the dark lake water. “You can see the stars in the lake.”</p><p>Hajime sat up with him and looked out at the expanse of still water spangled with glittering jewels. He looked at Tooru, at the curve of his mouth and the twinkle in his eyes. “Beautiful, right?”</p><p>Tooru’s eyes narrowed in focus. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, then blinked at Hajime, almost dazed. “I’m trying to memorize this exact scene. Taking a picture in my mind, so I can look at it again and again later.”</p><p>“What about your phone camera?”</p><p>“I don’t want to ruin the moment with electronics. We’re surrounded by the natural world, so it’s only fitting that we leave it that way.”</p><p>“Well, brains aren’t cameras,” Hajime said. “Just try to remember how you feel right now. That’s better than any picture.”</p><p>Tooru stared at Hajime and leaned back with a satisfied smile. “I won’t forget how you look right now, either.”</p><p>“Even a few years from now? Or when I’m gray and old?”</p><p>“Even then,” Tooru said. “Especially then.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Takahiro was in the break room at his office, standing by the counter with a file tucked under his arm as he sipped a cup of black coffee. It seemed a little sweeter than usual, richer and less watery than it had been in the days before.</p><p>He’d been busy all weekend -- he and Issei had been helping out Oikawa and Iwaizumi recently, and they’d finished moving the rest of Oikawa’s things from his old apartment into their new one-bedroom by Todai and that hospital Iwaizumi worked at.</p><p>“Funny how the four of us all ended up in Tokyo, living in two apartments across the city,” Iwaizumi had said as they lounged on cardboard boxes and sipped straight from the bottle, too lazy to unpack.</p><p>Issei smiled at Takahiro with half-lidded eyes. He wasn’t normally sensitive to alcohol, but the book-touring schedule had been rough on him. “It’s not funny, it’s fate,” he said. </p><p>“Fate,” echoed Oikawa dreamily. His head rested on Iwaizumi’s shoulder, and he had undone the first button of his shirt. “Sure, you can call it that.”</p><p>Takahiro took a swig of beer. “It’s just a happy coincidence. My mom would call it karma or good fortune or something.”</p><p>“No, it’s fate. Doesn’t have to be magical for it to be fate, just beyond us.”</p><p>“Or the universe’s totally random chance and our meaningless attempts to understand it?”</p><p>“Understanding it is your entire job, Oikawa.”</p><p>“They’re all the same thing, anyway, just with different names.”</p><p>Iwaizumi was careful not to shrug his shoulders, worried about jostling Oikawa’s head on him in the process. “Whatever it is,” he said, “I’m grateful for it.”</p><p>“Me too,” they’d all said, raising their drinks and silently toasting the happy twist that had led them to each other, together. Sitting in that then-new apartment that they’d eventually spend years in, they basked in the company of friends they’d had in their lives for more years than they hadn’t. </p><p>“Hey, Hanamaki, we’re meeting at one-thirty,” his boss told him, snapping him out of his thoughts. Her voice was punctuated by the sound of coffee dripping from the loud machine.</p><p>“Got it,” he said. “Thanks for the reminder.”</p><p>“You’re going to talk to that girlfriend of yours again, aren’t you?” She smiled knowingly, tapping her phone screen.</p><p>Takahiro scratched the back of his head. “Boyfriend, actually.”</p><p>She looked taken aback, nodding with a surprised smile. “Either way, don’t be late.”</p><p>“I won’t be. See you in five.”</p><p>As she left, Takahiro set down his cup and pulled out his phone. His notifications contained a few texts from his parents, whom he’d recently told he was dating a man. He scrolled through the spam of emojis and caps lock that Oikawa had sent chronicling how good Iwaizumi looked in a doctor’s white coat (to be frank, Takahiro didn’t want to know), continuing to ignore work emails and ads.</p><p><em> Mattsun’s about to go on some kind of talk show right now, the one for the bestseller’s book list, </em>one of Iwaizumi’s messages said. <em> Tooru helped him get ready. He’s wearing that tie you got for him. </em></p><p>Takahiro smiled, feeling again like a giddy teenager whose crush had won a big award at school, not a working adult whose boyfriend’s book had been a quiet hit on bestseller’s lists. </p><p>He checked the time on his phone again -- five minutes was enough for a conversation. </p><p>The phone picked up on only the second ring.</p><p>“Takahiro?”</p><p>“Hey, Issei.”</p><p>“What’d you call me for?”</p><p>“Wanted to wish you good luck, I guess. And to hear your voice.”</p><p>“I was just about to call you, actually. Needed a boost before my interview.” There was a small laugh and some shuffling on the other side, a TV crew member’s voice and a word of assent.<br/>
“You’ve got a presentation in a little while, right? Good luck.”</p><p>Takahiro leaned back and smiled. “Mhm, thanks. You’re gonna kill this interview.”</p><p>“Ah, now I <em> can’t </em> mess it up.”</p><p>“I’m rooting for you, Issei.”</p><p>There was an audible exhale, an unfamiliar voice announcing that “you’ll be on soon, Matsukawa.” </p><p>Issei’s voice was tremulous but clear. “You’re with me, right?”</p><p>“Always, yeah. I’m with you.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Tired?”</p><p>“Very.”</p><p>“You finished your peer review, though, right?”</p><p>“Right. Last one before I get considered for tenure.”</p><p>“Oikawa Tooru, youngest-ever associate professor of physics at Todai. With a tenure. Damn.”</p><p>“And Iwaizumi Hajime, chief resident of the orthopedic department at Hoshino.”</p><p>“Come on, that’s not nearly as impressive. I’ll have to do better.”</p><p>“I’d be just as happy if I dated a barista,” Tooru said, yawning. “I’m dead on my feet and could use some caffeine.”</p><p>“We’ve still got a baby shower to attend later, you know.” Hajime turned to the cupboard. “Want me to make you some coffee?”</p><p>He smiled, a weary tilt of his lips that seemed to brighten up the dark circles under his eyes. “I could go for an iced latte right now.”</p><p>“Coming right up, sir,” Hajime said with a deep bow. “Instant coffee and milk okay with that latte?”</p><p>Hajime smiled when he heard Tooru laugh and say, “I don’t think you know what a latte is, <em> sir </em>.”</p><p>“This is gourmet stuff. Nestle and two percent milk? You can’t beat this.”</p><p>“Really? I’m pretty sure my boyfriend can do better.”</p><p>He tried to hide his grin as he shook out the instant coffee powder into the mug, giving it a cursory swirl with a spoon. “And who’s that?”</p><p>“You might know him, actually. He’s a rich, handsome doctor.”</p><p>Hajime put a hand over his face. “Sounds impressive.”</p><p>“What about you?”</p><p>“My boyfriend, you mean?”</p><p>Tooru’s eyes twinkled. He grabbed a carton of milk from their filled refrigerator, twisting the cap off and sliding it to Hajime. “Yeah, what’s he like?”</p><p>“Totally annoying, actually. He’s a pain.”</p><p>Tooru failed to stifle his laughter. “Really?”</p><p>“And also the smartest, most beautiful, hardest-working person I know.” Hajime watched with satisfaction as Tooru’s ears began to redden. He added a drab of milk to the mug, swirling it three times clockwise (the way he’d seen Tooru do it on late weekend mornings. </p><p>“God, that’s so cheesy, Iwa-chan.”</p><p>“My boyfriend’s the love of my life,” Hajime said, enjoying the way Tooru’s face was turning pink. “Can’t imagine living without him.”</p><p>“You’re embarrassing.”</p><p>“More embarrassing than your boyfriend?”</p><p>“Ah, this whole boyfriend thing is getting away from me. I can’t keep track of who’s who.”</p><p>Hajime laughed. “Just drink your coffee, Tooru. We’re going to be late to Mamiya’s baby shower if we don’t hurry up.”</p><p>Tooru shook his head. “I can’t believe he’s going to have a kid. That’s…” </p><p>“Crazy?”</p><p>“Completely.”</p><p>“We might have a baby shower one day, you know.” Hajime fiddled with the cap of the milk carton. “Maybe. If you want.”</p><p>Tooru nudged him with his free arm. “I’d like that.” A thin line of coffee painted his upper lip, his eyes were half-lidded from lack of sleep, and Hajime had never felt more in love in his life. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Issei hung up the phone and looked over to the old couch where Takahiro was sprawled, eyes closed. He tossed his phone to the side, letting the second call from his publisher go to voicemail, and crossed the small room in a few strides.</p><p>“Hey, sleeping beauty. You up?”</p><p>“Ugh. Don’t call me that.”</p><p>“Oh, you’re awake. What should I say? Sitting beauty?”</p><p>Takahiro hit him weakly, then rubbed his eyes. “Are you finished with work?”</p><p>“All done, yeah.”</p><p>“Good, good,” Takahiro murmured. “What’d your publisher say?”</p><p>“Just wanted to congratulate me on one million copies sold.”</p><p>“One <em> million</em>?” Takahiro sat up, swinging his feet off of the side of the couch and onto the floor. His eyes were wide. “Seriously?”</p><p>“Seriously.”</p><p>“Holy shit.”</p><p>“Yeah, my thoughts exactly.”</p><p>“One fucking million. That’s a lot of people.” Takahiro shook his head. “Fuck, I’m so proud -- one million people have read your book. More than that, probably. That’s <em> so many</em> people.”</p><p>“It’s a lot. More than I can imagine, and a lot more than I hoped for. It’s kind of weird.”</p><p>“No, you deserve it. You deserve a billion copies sold. But first, we need to celebrate one million -- let’s eat out today! We’re always too busy, but this is the perfect occasion.”</p><p>“I’d like that,” Issei said. “You want to invite Oikawa and Iwaizumi?”</p><p>“Nah, just us two. This is special, they’d be weird and in love and ruin it.”</p><p>“We do that, too.”</p><p>Takahiro punched him lightly in the shoulder again, and Issei laughed. “Fine, fine. I get it.”</p><p>“And they’re busy anyway, I think. Oikawa said that he and Iwaizumi are meeting up with some former colleagues of Iwaizumi’s -- those doctors we’ve met from the hospital by Keio, Ito and Nagisa and Takahashi. They said it’s pretty important.”</p><p>“Okay,” Issei smiled. “Then just us two today.”</p><p>Takahiro nodded, but he was looking up, mouthing the words <em> one million </em> to himself while staring at the dusty ceiling fan and the flickering incandescent light bulbs.</p><p>“By the way,” Issei turned, studying Takahiro’s expression carefully. “One million copies is a lot, so the sales have been, uh, pretty good. Good enough to move out of this apartment, maybe.”</p><p>Takahiro turned abruptly, eyes narrowed. “So you’re saying…”</p><p>“Let’s move out. I want to -- I want to live in a house with you. I found a real estate agent and a few houses close to your office, and I talked to the landlord already, and I’m sure we can get our deposit back, so it’s no problem, really, and I just --” Issei wrung his hands together. “I want to live with you. I want permanence.”</p><p>“Permanence, huh? Me too,” Takahiro said, grinning. He leaned his head on Issei’s shoulder. “Let’s buy a house, like real adults.”</p><p>“We are real adults.”</p><p>“Real adults that act like it, then. Adults that buy groceries together and pay taxes and shit like that.”</p><p>“Right. So we’ll always be with each other. That’s all I want.”</p><p>“I used to think that was a lot to ask for,” Takahiro said, reaching up to grasp Issei’s chin and leaning closer, “but now, that’s all I want, too.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Hajime? Is that you?”</p><p>Hajime looked up at the sound of his name, his hand halfway out of his bag as he packed for work.</p><p>“Tooru,” he said, voice hushed but surprised. “I got a call from the hospital, so I have to go lead a surgery soon.”</p><p>Tooru nodded. Emergency surgery calls for Hajime were rare, but on the occasion that they happened, he would wake up at odd hours like 3 in the morning. Hajime was bent down, tying his shoes in the doorway. He straightened up. When he turned to face Tooru, the silhouette of his figure outlined in golden light seemed to be like a god.</p><p>“What kind of surgery?” Tooru asked. He felt like he already knew the answer based on the eagerness in Hajime’s bearing. </p><p>Hajime lifted up his own right leg and tapped his knee twice. “My favorite kind to perform.”</p><p>“You used to hate knee surgeries, right?”</p><p>“Not anymore,” he said.</p><p>Tooru felt strangely bashful. He straightened out the blanket he’d grabbed from the side of the bed and wrapped it around himself. </p><p>“You should go back to sleep,” Hajime whispered, walking closer. His hands fluttered around Tooru like he wasn’t sure where to touch, but he settled on putting his hands on Tooru’s hips and pulling him closer.</p><p>“It’s hard to sleep if you’re not there.”</p><p>“You napped just fine the other day,” Hajime said, his eyes soft when he looked at him. “But I wish I could go back to bed.”</p><p>Tooru didn’t know if it was the fatigue or the late hour, but his voice felt like an intimate caress. He wrapped his arms around Hajime’s neck and rested his forehead down onto his shoulder. “Me too.”</p><p>“I’ll see you in just a little while, though. It’s not a long surgery, it’s just scheduled at a weird time.”</p><p>“Alright,” Tooru said. He leaned back. Hajime’s face had gotten more weathered and tan over the years, though the luster of his hair and brightness of his eyes hadn’t changed. “Careful on your way there, okay”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“You brought food, right? And water? Coffee?”</p><p>“There’s water and coffee at the hospital,” laughed Hajime. “But I brought a lot of the onigiri you made last night. No need to worry, Tooru. I’ll text you when I get out of the OR.”</p><p>“Please do,” Tooru said. He pulled the thin throw blanket tighter around his shoulders. </p><p>Hajime hugged him tightly, then put one hand on the back of his head to kiss his forehead. “I'll stop by the florist on the way home, by the way.”</p><p>“It’s okay, there’s really no need.” Tooru gestured to the flowers on the table by the door, the daisies and peonies, the baby’s breath and roses. “You don’t need to buy them every time you have an emergency call, you know. It’s not something you can control.”</p><p>“I’m buying them because I want to,” Hajime said. He checked his watch and grimaced. “I should get going now, and you need to get back to sleep.”</p><p>“I will,” Tooru said. </p><p>“No staying up until morning like last time.”</p><p>“Only if you sleep early tonight, too.”</p><p>“Deal,” Hajime said. His eyes were fixed on him, and they conveyed so much love that Tooru was struck by the thought that he’d gotten very, very lucky in this universe (whatever luck was) to love and be loved, even after years of arguments and silence and stubbornness. </p><p>Mistakes of pride and idiocy had taken their toll, but Tooru couldn’t imagine a world where it had happened any other way. Without those very mistakes, he didn’t believe that the love he shared with Hajime -- love of the childhood friend, the boyish adolescent, the teammate, the classmate, the forbidden, the familiar -- he didn’t believe that love would exist at all. </p><p>Truly, it had taken a long time for them to admit their feelings to each other. Tooru realized it wasn’t because they didn’t know how they felt -- they knew, and that was the problem that burned them. The feelings had taken a decade, the confessions of love almost two decades, and the relationship had just begun. Tooru hoped fervently that the years he had with Hajime would be innumerable. He wished for infinite time in infinite universes, and in every single one, he wanted them to spend it together.</p><p>Hajime turned to the door, lingering on the threshold and frowning like he was trying hard not to turn back and embrace Tooru again.</p><p>“Love you, Tooru. I’ll get going now, but I’ll be back.”</p><p>“I love you, too.” And even though Tooru didn’t really believe in luck until recently, until everything had fallen into place, he added, “Good luck, Hajime.”</p><p>Hajime waved as Tooru stood by the front door. As he looked into the static darkness, Tooru caught the familiar glimpse of a metallic gleam on Hajime’s finger and the warm glow of loving eyes, and he smiled.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Happy March 29th,” Tooru said to him, their fingers intertwined. </p><p>Hajime brought their hands up together and kissed Tooru’s knuckles. “You say it like it’s a holiday or something,” he laughed.</p><p>“For us, it might as well be.”</p><p>“We have anniversaries, birthdays, and March 29th.”</p><p>Tooru squeezed his hand. “Every world with the same calendar system as us has a March 29th. I wonder how many of them are special.”</p><p>“That’s a lot of worlds,” Hajime said. “I’d like to think that it’s just us, alone in the universe. It’s terrifying, but it’s almost comforting.”</p><p>“We have as many worlds as there are stars in the sky, Hajime. Really, it’s unfathomable.“</p><p>Hajime nodded. He'd grown to like hearing Tooru say the world <em>unfathomable, </em>to listening to the roll of the sounds on his lips. “Remember that time we came here on your birthday?”</p><p>“Of course. I said I’d never forget it, and I never will.”</p><p>“There was a comet that day, wasn’t there?”</p><p>“The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I still think about it sometimes. That great big ball of cosmic dust and speed hurtling past us, and it was beautiful.” He sighed. "It's still out there somewhere, making its way around. It'll probably be there long after we're six feet under, just as big and bright as it was ten years ago."</p><p>Hajime smiled as he reminisced, thinking back on the vague memories -- stars like jewels, Tooru lying beside him, and the endless mirror of the lake. There were fewer stars now, but they somehow seemed to glow brighter, and Tooru’s eyes outshined them all.</p><p>“No cosmic dust today, though, unfortunately.” Hajime shifted so he turned to face Tooru, lying on his side. “Just us and the stars.”</p><p>“And all the infinite things out there. Aliens, you, and me.”</p><p>He laughed. “Us and the aliens, huh?”</p><p>“The aliens far outnumber us, but that’s okay. Most of the time, I’m sure those worlds are just you and me.”</p><p>“Us?”</p><p>Tooru was running his thumb over the ridges of Hajime’s knuckles, rubbing circles into the callused and rough skin. “Us.”</p><p>“Pure luck, then, that we got this world we live in. No aliens, first of all. And some miracle comets on birthdays, days like March 29th, friends we love and who love us. And you.”</p><p>“And <em> you</em>. Lucky doesn’t begin to describe it.”</p><p>“You know what? I’m so lucky that I got to meet the love of my life.”</p><p>“The love of your life? What’s he like?” Tooru was smiling so widely that Hajime felt compelled to do the same, and soon they were laughing together like fools under the canopy of the sky. </p><p>“Don’t even start, Tooru. I could sing praises and hurl insults at you all night long.”</p><p>“We'll save that for the next March 29th, then, and for every year after that.”</p><p>“And every day in between?”</p><p>“All the time that you want. It’s our world, after all,” Tooru said to Hajime. “You and me and our world together.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>wow! so this is the end of the story. it was a wild ride for me, and though this is by no means an epic endeavor, i've spent so much time and thought on it that it's odd to be signing off now.</p><p>i could write a whole 60k letter simply thanking all the readers i've had, but i'll try to be brief -- if you're reading this, i'm truly grateful. thank you for giving this mess a chance. it really does mean the entire world to me.</p><p>to u_dragon, Rosings, Ell, Shu, rrk_smith, Spider999Now, Datty, the_indoor_kites, SushiBlack, timelytima, diyeoracha and so many more: i can't express how thankful i am for your kind comments throughout the making of this fic! your words have meant so much to me, and i know i'll return to them again and again, even now after it's completed! thank you!!!!!!!</p><p>as always, any kudos/feedback is much appreciated (no matter how long after!). thank you again! &lt;3</p><p>love,<br/>corinna</p><p>p.s. though this fic is finished, i'll be back eventually with more :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>